THE    SQUATTER 


AND 


THE    DON. 


A.  NOVEL  DESCRIPTIVE  OF  CONTEMPORARY  OCCURRENCES 
IN  CALIFORNIA. 

iTboo. 


OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY 


C.   LOYAL. 


SAN    FRANCISCO: 
1885. 


? I)  O  $~ 
Copyright,  1885. 

C.  LOYAL. 
SAN  FRANCISCO,  CAL. 


All  Rights  Reserved. 


TABLE  OF  CONTENTS. 


I.  Squatter  Darrell  Reviews  the  Past, 

II.  The  Don's  View  of  the  Treaty  of  Guadalupe  Hidalgo, 

III.  Pre-empting  Under  the  Law,     ..... 

IV.  Efforts  to  Right  the  Wrong,  .... 

V.  The  Don  in  His  Broad  Acres, 

VI.  Naughty  Dog  Milord  an  Important  Factor, 

VII.  From  Alameda  to  San  Diego, 

VIII.  Victoriano  and  His  Sister,     ..... 

IX.  Clarence  is  the  Bearer  of  Joyful  News, 

X.  But  Clarence  Must  Not  be  Encouraged, 

XI.  George  is  a  Christian  Gentleman,      .... 

XII.  Why  the  Appeal  Was  Not  Dismissed,  . 

XIII.  At  San  Francisco,      .  

XIV.  Of  Miscellaneous  Incidents,  .         .         . 

XV.  Journeying  Overland,        ...... 

XVI.  Spanish  Land  Grants  Viewed  Retrospectively, 

XVII.  Dona  Josefa  at  Home, 

XVIII.  At  Newport 

XIX.  In  New  York, 

XX.  At  the  Capitol, 

XXI.  Looking  at  the  Receding  Dome,         .         .    •     . 

XXII.  Perplexities  at  Alamar, 

XXIII.  Home  Again,    .  

XXIV.  The  Brewers  of  Mischief, 

XXV.  The  Squatter  and  the  Don,        .          .         . 

XXVI.  Mrs.  Darrell's  View  of  Our  Land  Laws, 

XXVII.  Darrell  Astonishes  Himself, 

XXVIII.  Shall  it  be  Forever? 

XXIX.  Hasty  Decisions  Repented  Leisurely, 

XXX.  Effect  of  Bad  Precept  and  Worse  Example, 

XXXI.  A  Snow  Storm, 

XXXII.  A  False  Friend  Sent  to  Deceive  the  Southerners, 

XXXIII.  San  Diego's  Sentence  is  Irrevocable, 

XXXIV.  The  Sins  of  Our  Legislators,         .... 

XXXV.  The  Fashion  of  Justice  in  San  Diego, 

XXXVI.  Clarence  and  George  with  the  Hod-carrier, 

XXXVII.  Reunited  at  Last, 

CONCLUSION, 


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THE  SQUATTER  AND  THE   DON. 


CHAPTER  I. 
SQUATTER  DARRELL  REVIEWS  THE  PAST. 

"  To  be  guided  by  good  advice,  is  to  profit  by  the  wisdom 
of  others;  to  be  guided  by  experience,  is  to  profit  by  wisdom 
of  our  own,"  said  Mrs.  Darrell  to  her  husband,  in  her  own 
sweet,  winning  way,  as  they  sat  alone  in  the  sitting  room  of 
their  Alameda  farm  house,  having  their  last  talk  that  evening, 
while  she  darned  his  stockings  and  sewed  buttons  on  his 
shirts.  The  children  (so-called,  though  the  majority  were 
grown  up)  had  all  retired  for  the  night.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Darrell 
sat  up  later,  having  much  to  talk  about,  as  he  would  leave 
next  day  for  Southern  California,  intending  to  locate — some 
where  in  a  desirable  neighborhood — a  homestead  claim. 

"Therefore,"  continued  Mrs.  Darrell,  seeing  that  her  hus 
band  smoked  his  pipe  in  silence,  adding  no  observations  to 
her  own,  "let  us  this  time  be  guided  by  our  own  past  history, 
William  —  our  experience.  In  other  words,  let  us  be  wise, 
my  husband." 

"By  way  of  variety,  you  mean,"  said  he  smiling.  "  That  'is, 
as  far  as  I  am  concerned,  because  I  own,  frankly,  that  had  I 
been  guided  by  your  advice — your  wisdom — we  would  be 
much  better  off  to  day.  You  have  a  right  to  reproach  me." 

"I  do  not  wish  to  do  anything  of  the  kind.  I  think  re 
proaches  seldom  do  good." 

"No  use  in  crying  over  spilt  milk,  eh?" 

"That  is  not  my  idea,  either.  On  the  contrary,  if  by 
'  milk '  it  is  meant  all  or  any  earthly  good  whatever,  it  is  the 
'  spilt  milk '  that  we  should  lament.  There  is  no  reason  to 
cry  for  the  milk  that  has  not  been  wasted,  the  good  that  is 


6  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

not  lost.  So  let  us  cry  for  the  spilt  milk,  by  all  means,  if  by 
doing  so  we  lea'rn  how  to  avoid  spilling  any  more.  Let  us 
cry  for  the  spilt  milk,  and  remember  how,  and  where,  and 
when,  and  why,  we  spilt  it.  Much  wisdom  is  learnt  through 
tears,  but  none  by  forgetting  our  lessons." 

"But  how  can  a  man  learn  when  he  is  born  a  fool? " 

"  Only  an  idiot  is,  truly  speaking,  a  born  fool ;  a  fool  to 
such  a  degree  that  he  cannot  act  wisely  if  he  will.  It  is  only 
when  perversity  is  added  to  foolishness,  that  a  being — not  an 
idiot — is  utterly  a  fool.  To  persist  in  acting  wrongfully,  that 
is  the  real  folly.  To  reject  good  counsel,  either  of  one's  own 
good  thoughts  or  the  good  thoughts  of  others.  But  to  act 
foolishly  by  deciding  hastily,  by  lack  of  mature  reflection, 
that  I  should  only  call  a  foolish  mistake.  So,  then,  if  we 
have  been  foolish,  let  us  at  least  utilize  our  foolishness  by 
drawing  from  it  lessons  of  wisdom  for  the  future.  We  cannot 
conscientiously  plead  that  we  are  born  fools  when  we  see  our 
errors." 

Mr.  Darrell  smilingly  bowed,  and  with  a  voice  much  spfter 
than  his  usual  stentorian  tones,  said : 

"  I  understand,  little  wife,  bat  I  fear  that  my  streak  of  per 
versity  is  a  broad  one,  and  has  solely  been  the  bane  of  my 
life;  it  has  a  fatality  accompanying  it.  I  have  often  seen  the 
right  way  to  act,  and  yet  I  have  gone  with  my  eyes  wide  open 
to  do  the  wrong  thing.  And  this,  too,  not  meaning  to  do 
harm  to  any  one,  nor  wishing  to  be  malicious  or  mean.  I  don't 
know  what  power  impelled  me.  But  if  you  will  forgive  my 
past  wickedness,  I'll  try  to  do  better." 

"  Don't  say  that.  Don't  speak  of  your  wickedness,  for  real 
wickedness  is  perversity.  You  have  acted  wrongly  at  times, 
when  you  have  misapplied  your  rights  and  the  rights  of  others, 
but  you  have  not  intentionally  done  wrong.  You  are  not  per 
verse;  don't  say  that." 

"  In  a  few  days  it  will  be  twenty-four  years  since  we  crossed 
the  plains  with  our  three  babies,  in  our  caravan  of  four  wagons, 
followed  by  our  fine  horses  and  choice  Durham  cows.  I  firmly 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  7 

believed  then,  that  with  my  fine  stock  and  my  good  bank  ac 
count,  and  broad  government  lands,  free  to  all  Americans,  I 
should  have  given  you  a  nice  home  before  I  was  five  years 
older;  that  I  would  have  saved  money  and  would  be  getting 
more  to  make  us  rich  before  I  was  old.  But  see,  at  the  end 
of  twenty-four  years,  where  and  how  do  I  find  myself?  I  am 
still  poor,  all  I  have  earned  is  the  name  of  * Squatter'  That 
pretty  name  (which  I  hate  because  you  despise  it)  is  what  I 
have  earned." 

"  Don't  say  that  either,  William.  We  will  only  recommence 
one  of  numerous  fruitless  discussions.  We  are  not  poor,  be 
cause  we  have  enough  to  live  in  comfort,  and  I  do  not  despise 
the  name  of  Squatter,  for  it  is  harmless  enough,  but  I  do  cer 
tainly  disapprove  of  acts  done  by  men  because  they  are  squat 
ters,  or  to  become  squatters.  They  have  caused  much  trouble 
to  people  who  never  harmed  them." 

"  They,  too,  the  poor  squatters,  have  suffered  as  much  dis 
tress  as  they  have  caused,  the  poor  hard-worked  toilers." 

"That  is  very  true,  but  I  am  afraid  I  shall  never  be  able  to 
see  the  necessity  of  any  one  being  a  squatter  in  this  blessed 
country  of  plentiful  broad  acres,  which  a  most  liberal  govern 
ment  gives  away  for  the  asking." 

" That's  exactly  it.  We  aren't  squatters.  We  are  '•settlers' 
We  take  up  land  that  belongs  to  us,  American  citizens,  by  pay 
ing  the  government  price  for  it." 

"  Whenever  you  take  up  government  land,  yes,  you  are  'set 
tlers,'  but  not  when  you  locate  claims  on  land  belonging  to  any 
one  else.  In  that  case,  you  must  accept  the  epithet  of 
« Squatter:  " 

Darrell  set  his  teeth  so  tightly,  that  he  bit  a  little  chip 
off  his  pipe.  Mrs.  Darrell  went  on  as  if  she  had  not  observed 
her  husband's  flash  of  irritation. 

"  But  I  hope  we  will  never  more  deserve  such  name;  I  trust 
that  before  you  locate  any  homestead  claim  in  Southern  Cali 
fornia,  you  will  first  inform  yourself,  very  carefully,  whether 
any  one  has  a  previous  claim.  And  more  specially,  I  beg  of  you, 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

do  not  go  on  a  Mexican  grant  unless  you  buy  the  land  from 
the  owner.  This  I  beg  of  you  specially,  and  must  insist  upon 
it." 

"  And  how  am  I  to  know  who  is  the  owner  of  a  rancho  that 
has  been  rejected,  for  instance?  " 

"  If  the  rancho  is  still  in  litigation,  don't  buy  land  in  it,  or 
if  you  do,  buy  title  from  the  original  grantee,  on  fair  conditions 
and  clear  understanding." 

"I  don't  know  whether  that  can  be  done  in  the  Alamar 
rancho,  which  I  am  going  to  see,  and  I  know  it  has  been  re 
jected.  But  of  one  thing  you  can  rest  assured,  that  I  shall 
not  forget  our  sad  experience  in  Napa  and  Sonoma  valleys, 
where — after  years  of  hard  toil — I  had  to  abandon  our  home 
and  lose  the  earnings  of  years  and  years  of  hard  work." 

"That  is  all  I  ask,  William.  To  remember  our  experience 
in  Napa  and  Sonoma.  To  remember,  also,  that  we  are  no 
longer  young.  We  cannot  afford  to  throw  away  another  twenty 
years  of  our  life;  and  really  and  truly,  if  you  again  go  into  a 
Mexican  grant,  William,  I  shall  not  follow  you  there  willingly. 
Do  not  expect  it  of  me;  I  shall  only  go  if  you  compel  me." 

"Compel  you!"  he  exclaimed,  laughing.  "Compel  you, 
when  you  know  I  have  obeyed  you  all  my  life." 

"  Oh !  no,  William,  not  all  your  life,  for  you  were  well  grown 
before  I  ever  saw  you." 

"  I  mean  ever  since  I  went  to  Washington  with  my  mind 
made  up  to  jump  off  the  train  coming  back,  if  you  didn't  agree 
to  come  North  to  be  my  commandant." 

"  I  don't  think  I  have  been  a  very  strict  disciplinarian,"  she 
said,  smiling.  "  I  think  the  subaltern  has  had  pretty  much  his 
own  way." 

"  Yes,  when  he  thinks  he  might.  But  when  the  comman 
dant  pulls  the  string,  by  looking  sad  or  offended,  then  good- 
by  to  the  spirit  and  independence  of  the  subaltern." 

"  One  thing  I  must  not  forget  to  ask  you  ;"  she  said,  going 
back  to  the  point  of  their  digression,  "and  it  is,  not  to  believe 
what  those  men  have  been  telling  you  about  the  Alamar  rancho 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  9 

having  been  finally  rejected.  You  know  John  Gasbang  could 
never  speak  the  truth,  and  years  have  not  made  him  more  re 
liable.  As  for  Miller,  Hughes  and  Mathews,  they  are  dishonest 
enough,  and  though  not  so  brazen  as  Gasbang,  they  will  mis 
represent  facts  to  induce  you  to  go  with  them,  for  they  want 
you  with  them." 

"I  know  they  do;  I  see  through  all  that.  But  I  see,  too, 
that  San  Diego  is  sure  to  have  a  railroad  direct  to  the  Eastern 
States.  Lands  will  increase  in  value  immediately;  so  I  think, 
myself,  I  had  better  take  time  by  the  forelock  and  get  a  good 
lot  of  land  in  the  Alamar  grant,  which  is  quite  near  town." 

"  But,  are  you  sure  it  is  finally  rejected?" 

"  I  saw  the  book,  where  the  fact  is  recorded.  Isn't  that 
enough?" 

"  Yes,  if  there  has  been  no  error." 

"  Always  the  same  cautious  Mary  Moreneau,  who  tortured 
me  with  her  doubts  and  would  not  have  me  until  Father  White 
took  compassion  on  me,"  said  he,  smiling,  looking  at  her 
fondly,  for  his  thoughts  reverted  back  to  those  days  when  Miss 
Mary  was  afraid  to  marry  him;  but,  after  all,  he  won  her 
and  brought  her  all  the  way  from  Washington  to  his  New 
England  home. 

William  Darrell  was  already  a  well-to-do  young  farmer  in 
those  days,  a  bachelor  twenty-eight  to  thirty  years  of  age,  sole 
heir  to  a  flourishing  New  England  farm,  and  with  a  good  ac 
count  in  a  Boston  bank,  when  Miss  Mary  Moreneau  came  to 
New  England  from  Washington  to  visit  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Newton. 
As  Mrs.  Newton's  husband  was  William  DarrelPs  uncle,  nothing 
was  more  natural  than  for  Mary  to  meet  him  at  his  uncle's 
house.  Nobody  expected  that  William  would  fall  in  love  with 
her,  as  he  seemed  to  be  proof  against  Cupid's  darts.  The 
marriageable  maidens  of  William's  neighborhood  had  in  vain 
tried  to  attract  the  obdurate  young  farmer,  who  seemed  to 
enjoy  no  other  society  than  that  of  his  uncle  Newton  and  his 
wife. 

But  Mary  came  and  William  surrendered  at  once.     She, 


10  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

however,  gave  him  no  encouragement.  Her  coldness  seemed 
only  to  inflame  his  love  the  more,  until  Miss  Moreneau  thought 
it  was  best  to  shorten  her  visit  and  return  home  about  the 
middle  of  September. 

"Why  are  you  to  return  home  so  early?"  Darrell  asked 
Mary,  after  Mrs.  Newton  had  informed  him  of  Mary's  inten 
tion  of  going. 

"  Because  I  think  it  is  best,"  she  answered. 

"  Why  is  it  best?" 

"  For  several  reasons." 

"  May  I  be  permitted  to  ask  what  are  those  reasons?" 

"  Certainly.  One  reason  is,  that  as  I  came  to  see  my  aunt 
and  at  the  same  time  to  rest  and  improve  my  health,  and  all 
those  objects  have  been  accomplished,  I  might  as  well  go  home. 
Then,  my  other  aunt,  with  whom  I  reside,  is  not  feeling  well. 
She  went  to  spend  the  summer  in  Virginia,  but  writes  that  her 
health  has  not  improved  much,  and  she  will  soon  come  back 
to  Washington.  Then  some  of  my  pupils  will  want  to  recom 
mence  their  lessons  soon,  and  I  want  to  have  some  little  time 
to  myself  before  I  begin  to  work.  You  know,  Mr.  Darrell,  I 
teach  to  support  myself," 

"  Yes,  only  because  you  have  a  notion  to  do  it." 

"  A  notion  !     Do  you  think  I  am  rich  ?  " 

"  No,  but  there  is  no  need  of  your  working." 

"  It  is  a  need  to  me  to  feel  independent.  I  don't  want 
to  be  supported  by  my  aunts,  while  I  know  how  to  earn  my 
own  living." 

"  Miss  Mary,  please,  I  beg  of  you,  let  me  have  the  happi 
ness  of  taking  care  of  you.  Be  my  wife,  I  am  not  a  rich  man, 
but  I  have  enough  to  provide  for  you." 

"  Mr.  Darrell,  you  surprise  me.  I  thank  you  for  the  com 
pliment  you  pay  me  with  your  honorable  offer,  but  I  have  no 
wish  to  get  married." 

"  Do  you  reject  me,  Miss  Mary  ?  Tell  me  one  thing;  tell 
me  truly,  do  you  care  for  any  one  else?" 

"  No,  I  care  for  nobody.     I  don't  want  to  marry." 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  II 

"  But  you  will  marry  some  time.  If  you  knew  how  very 
miserable  you  make  me,  I  think  you  would  not  have  the  heart 
to  refuse  me." 

"  You  will  get  over  it.     I  am  going  soon.     Forget  me." 

Darrell  made  no  answer.  He  staggered  out  of  the  room 
and  did  not  return  until  the  following  week,  when  Mary  had 
left  for  Washington,  accompanied  by  Letitia,  her  colored 
servant  (called  Tisha),  who  was  devotedly  attached  to  her. 

Darrell  had  become  rather  taciturn  and  less  sociable  than 
ever,  Mrs.  Newton  noticed,  and  since  Mary  left  he  seemed  to 
lose  flesh  and  all  his  spirits,  and  passed  the  winter  as  if  life 
were  a  burden  to  him.  But  when  spring  came,  he  brightened 
up  a  little,  though  he  felt  far  from  happy.  About  that  time 
Mrs.  Newton  had  a  letter  from  Mary,  saying  that  she  was  going 
to  spend  vacation  in  Maryland  with  her  other  aunt,  and  Tisha 
for  her  escort. 

"  She  don't  come  here,  because  she  fears  I  shall  pester  her 
life  with  my  visits.  As  she  knows  I  can't  keep  away  from  her, 
she  keeps  away  from  you.  She  hates  me.  I  suppose  you,  too, 
will  take  to  hating  me,  by  and  by,"  said  Darrell,  when  he  heard 
that  Mary  was  not  coming  that  summer. 

"  No  danger  of  that,  William,"  Mrs.  Newton  replied. 

"  Yes,  there  is.  You  ought  to  hate  me  for  driving  her  away. 
I  hate  myself  worse  than  I  hate  the  devil." 

"  William,  you  mustn't  feel  so.     It  isn't  right." 

"  I  know  it.  But  when  did  I  ever  do  anything  right,  I'd 
like  to  know?  I  wish  I  could  hate  her  as  I  hate  myself,  or  as 
she  hates  me." 

"  William,  she  does  not  hate  you." 

"  How  do  you  know  she  don't  ?  " 

"  Because  she  would  have  told  me.     She  is  very  truthful." 

"  I  know  it.  She  gave  me  my  walking  papers  in  a  jiffy.  I 
wish  I  could  hate  her." 

"  William,  do  you  promise  not  to  get  angry,  if  I  tell  you  why 
Mary  declined  your  offer?" 

"  Say  on.  You  couldn't  well  make  a  burning  furnace  any 
hotter.  I  am  too  mad  already." 


12  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"  Well,  I'll  tell  you.     She  likes  you,  but  is  afraid  of  you." 

"Afraid?  afraid?"  said  he,  aghast — "why!  that  is  awful! 
I,  an  object  of  fear,  when  I  worship  the  ground  she  treads  on ! 
But.  how?  What  have  I  done?  When  did  I  frighten  her?" 

"At  no  particular  time;  but  often  you  gave  her  the  impres 
sion  that  you  have  a  high  temper,  and  she  told  me,  '  If  I  loved 
Mr.  Darrell  better  than  my  life,  I  wouldn't  marry  him,  for  I 
could  never  be  happy  with  a  man  of  a  violent  temper.'  Then 
she  spoke,  too,  of  her  being  a  Roman  Catholic  and  you  a 
Protestant." 

"  But  you  are  a  Catholic  and  uncle  is  Protestant." 

"  Certainly,  I  think  the  barrier  is  not  insuperable." 

"So,  my  temper  frightened  her!  It  is  awful!"  He  mused  in 
silence  for  a  few  minutes  and  then  left  the  room. 

About  an  hour  after,  he  returned  dressed  for  traveling,  car 
rying  a  satchel  in  one  hand  and  a  tin  box  under  his  arm.  He 
put  the  box  on  the  table,  saying: 

"  Aunt  Newton,  I  am  going  away  for  a  few  days.  Please 
take  care  of  this  box  until  I  return  or  you  hear  from  me. 
Good-by !"  and  he  hurried  away,  for  he  had  only  barely  time 
to  catch  the  train  going  to  New  York. 

Darrell  was  in  New  York  for  a  few  hours.  He  bought  a 
finer  suit  of  clothes,  a  very  elegant  light  overcoat,  hat  and  boots, 
and  gloves  to  match,  and  thus  equipped  so  elegantly  that  he 
hardly  recognized  himself,  as  he  surveyed  his  figure  in  a  large 
mirror  of  the  furnishing  store,  where  he  was  so  metamorphosed, 
he  took  the  night  train  for  Washington. 

It  was  early  on  a  Sunday  morning  that  Darrell  arrived  at 
Washington.  He  went  to  a  hotel,  entered  his  name,  took  a 
room,  a  bath  and  a  breakfast,  and  then  called  a  hack  to  go  in 
search  of  Mary.  He  knew  that  was  not  an  hour  for  calling, 
but  he  had  business  with  Mary.  His  was  no  friendly  visit;  it 
was  a  matter  of  life  and  death  with  him. 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  presently  he  heard  Tisha's  flapping 
steps  coming.  "Lud  a  massa!"  she  exclaimed,  stepping  back. 
But  recovering  herself,  said  with  true  heartiness — 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  13 

"  Come  in  the  parlor,  please.  It  is  true  glad  Miss  Mary  will 
be  to  see  ye." 

"  Do  you  think  so,  Tisha?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  know  it;  no  thinking  about  it,  neither.  She  is  going  to 
mass;  but  she'll  see  you  for  a  little  while,  anyway." 

Opening  the  parlor  door  for  Darrell  to  walk  in,  Tisha  ran 
up  stairs  to  Mary's  room. 

"Oh  Miss  Mary!"  said  she,  "guess  who  is  down  stairs." 

"  I  couldn't,  Tish,  being  so  early  and  on  Sunday,  but  I  heard 
a  man's  voice.  Is  it  a  gentleman?  " 

"You  bet;  ah!  please  excuse  me,  I  mean  sure  as  I  live  it  is, 
and  no  other  than  Mr.  Darrell,  from  New  England." 

"  Ah !  "  said  Miss  Mary,  affecting  indifference,  but  her  hands 
trembled  as  she  tied  her  bonnet  strings. 

Darrell  knew  he  must  appear  self-contained  and  not  in  the 
least  impetuous,  but  when  he  saw  those  beautiful  dark  eyes  of 
Mary's  he  forgot  all  his  pretended  calmness. 

"  Is  my  aunt  well?  "  Mary  began  as  she  came  in. 

"Yes,  yes,  everybody  is  well;  don't  be  alarmed  at  my  com 
ing,  I  know  it  must  seem  strange  to  you.  Two  days  ago  I  had 
no  idea  of  coming  to  Washington,  but  Miss  Moreneau,  your 
aunt  told  me  you  were  not  coming  North  this  summer,  and  this 
news  nearly  drove  me  crazy." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Darrell !  " 

"  Wait,  don't  drive  me  off  yet.  Your  aunt  told  me  that  you 
refused  me  because  you  believe  I  have  a  violent  temper.  Now, 
I  am  not  going  to  deny  that,  but  this  I  am  going  to  say — 
That  I  have  never  violated  my  word,  and  never  shall,  and  I 
make  a  most  solemn  oath  to  you,  that  if  you  will  marry  me 
you  shall  never  have  occasion  to  be  made  unhappy  or  dis 
pleased  by  my  quick  anger,  because  you  will  only  have  to  re 
mind  me  of  this  pledge,  and  I  shall  curb  my  temper,  if  it  kills 
me." 

"  Mr.  Darrell,  I  believe  you  are  perfectly  sincere  in  what  you 
say,  but  a  strong  trait  of  character  is  not  controlled  easily.  It 
is  more  apt  to  be  uncontrollable." 


14  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"  For  God's  sake  don't  refuse  me,  I  feel  I  must  kill  myself 
if  you  spurn  me.  I  don't  want  life  without  you." 

"  Don't  say  that,"  Mary  said,  trying  to  keep  calm,  but  she 
felt  as  if  being  carried  away  in  spite  of  herself,  by  the  torrent 
of  his  impetuosity.  She  was  afraid  of  him,  but  she  liked  him 
and  she  liked  to  be  loved  in  that  passionate  rebellious  way  of 
his;  she  smiled,  adding,  "we  must  postpone  this  conversation 
for  I  must  go  to  church,  and  it  is  quite  a  long  walk  there." 

"  The  carriage  that  brought  me  is  at  the  door,  take  it,  and 
don't  walk,  it  is  quite  warm  out." 

"  Will  you  go  with  me  to  church?  You  see,  that  is  another 
obstacle;  the  difference  of  religions." 

"  Indeed,  that  is  no  obstacle;  your  religion  tells  you  to  pity  me." 

"We  will  talk  to  Father  White  about  that." 

"  Then  Mary,  my  beloved,  will  you  give  me  hope?  " 

"  And  will  you  really  try  to  control  your  anger  when  you  feel 
it  is  getting  the  mastery  over  you?  " 

"  I  will,  so  help  me  God,"  said  he,  lifting  his  hand. 

"  Take  care,  that  is  an  oath." 

"  I  know  it,  and  mean  it,"  said  he,  much  moved. 

They  went  to  church  together.  After  church,  Mary  had  a 
few  moments  conversation  with  her  pastor.  She  explained 
everything  to  him.  "  Do  you  love  himi,  my  child,"  asked  the 
good  father,  knowing  the  human  heart  only  too  well.  Mary 
blushed  and  said — 

"Yes,  father,  I  believe  I  do." 

"Very  well,  send  him  to  see  me  to-morrow  morning." 

Darrell  had  a  long  talk  with  Father  White,  and  promised 
solemnly  not  to  coerce  or  influence  his  wife  to  change  her  re 
ligion,  and  that  should  their  union  be  blessed  with  children, 
they  should  be  baptized  and  brought  up  Catholics. 

And  his  union  was  blessed.  Mary  made  his  New  England 
home  a  paradise,  and  eight  children,  sharing  largely  their 
mother's  fine  qualities,  filled  to  overflowing  his  cup  of  happi 
ness. 


CHAPTER  II. 
THE  DON'S  VIEW  OF  THE  TREATY  OF  GUADALUPE  HIDALGO. 

If  there  had  been  such  a  thing  as  communicating  by  tele 
phone  in  the  days  of  '72,  and  there  had  been  those  magic  wires 
spanning  the  distance  between  William  DarrelPs  house  in 
Alameda  County  and  that  of  Don  Mariano  Alamar  in  San 
Diego  County,  with  power  to  transmit  the  human  voice  for  five 
hundred  miles,  a  listener  at  either  end  would  have  heard 
various  discussions  upon  the  same  subject,  differentiated  only 
by  circumstances.  No  magic  wires  crossed  San  Francisco  bay 
to  bring  the  sound  of  voices  to  San  Diego,  but  the  law  of  ne 
cessity  made  the  Squatter  and  the  Don,  distant  as  they  were— 
distant  in  every  way,  without  reckoning  the  miles  between 
them — talk  quite  warmly  of  the  same  matter.  The  point  of 
view  was  of  course  different,  for  how  could  it  be  otherwise? 
Darrell  thought  himself  justified,  and  authorized,  to  "take  up 
lands,"  as  he  had  done  before.  He  had  had  more  than  half 
of  California's  population  on  his  side,  and  though  the  "  Squat 
ter's  Sovereignty"  was  now  rather  on  the  wane,  and  the  "squatter 
vote  "  was  no  longer  the  power,  still,  the  squatters  would  not 
abdicate,  having  yet  much  to  say  about  election  times. 

But  Darrell  was  no  longer  the  active  squatter  that  he  had 
been.  He  controlled  many  votes  yet,  but  in  his  heart  he  felt 
the  weight  which  his  wife's  sad  eyes  invariably  put  there  when 
the  talk  was  of  litigating  against  a  Mexican  land  title. 

This  time,  however,  Darrell  honestly  meant  to  take  no  land 
but  what  belonged  to  the  United  States.  His  promise  to  his 
wife  was  sincere,  yet  his  coming  to  Southern  California  had 
already  brought  trouble  to  the  Alamar  rancho. 

Don  Mariano  Alamar  was  silently  walking  up  and  down  the 


10  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

front  piazza  of  his  house  at  the  rancho;  his  hands  listlessly 
clasped  behind  and  his  head  slightly  bent  forward  in  deep 
thought.  He  had  pushed  away  to  one  side  the  many  arm 
chairs  and  wicker  rockers  with  which  the  piazza  was  furnished. 
He  wanted  a  long  space  to  walk.  That  his  meditations  were 
far  from  agreeable,  could  easily  be  seen  by  the  compressed  lips, 
slight  frown,  and  sad  gaze  of  his  mild  and  beautiful  blue  eyes. 
Sounds  of  laughter,  music  and  dancing  came  from  the  parlor ; 
the  young  people  were  entertaining  friends  from  town  with 
their  usual  gay  hospitality,  and  enjoying  themselves  heartily. 
Don  Mariano,  though  already  in  his  fiftieth  year,  was  as  fond 
of  dancing  as  his  sons  and  daughters,  and  not  to  see  him  come 
in  and  join  the  quadrille  was  so  singular  that  his  wife  thought 
she  must  come  out  and  inquire  what  could  detain  him.  He 
was  so  absorbed  in  his  thoughts  that  he  did  not  hear  her  voice 
calling  him — 

"What  keeps  you  away?  Lizzie  has  been  looking  for  you; 
she  wants  you  for  a  partner  in  the  lancers,"  said  Dona  Josefa, 
putting  her  arm  under  that  of  her  husband,  bending  her  head 
forward  and  turning  it  up  to  look  into  his  eyes. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  she  asked,  stopping  short,  thus 
making  her  husband  come  to  a  sudden  halt.  "I  am  sure 
something  has  happened.  Tell  me." 

"  Nothing,  dear  wife.  Nothing  has  happened.  That  is  to 
say,  nothing  new." 

"  More  squatters?"  she  asked.  Senor  Alamar  bent  his  head 
slightly,  in  affirmative  reply. 

"  More  coming,  you  mean?" 

"  Yes,  wife;  more.  Those  two  friends  of  squatters  Mathews 
and  Hager,  who  were  here  last  year  to  locate  claims  and  went 
away,  did  not  abandon  their  claims,  but  only  went  away  to 
bring  proselytes  and  th  eir  families,  and  a  large  invoice  of  them 
will  arrive  on  to-morrow's  steamer.  The  worst  of  it  all  is, 
that  among  the  new  comers  is  that  terrible  and  most  dangerous 
squatter  William  Darrell,  who  some  years  ago  gave  so  much 
trouble  to  the  Spanish  people  in  Napa  and  Sonoma  Counties, 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  17 

by  locating  claims  there.  John  Gasbang  wrote  to  Hogsden 
that  besides  Darrell,  there  will  be  six  or  seven  other  men 
bringing  their  families,  so  that  there  will  be  more  rifles  for  my 
cattle." 

"  But,  didn't  we  hear  that  Darrell  was  no  longer  a  squatter, 
that  he  is  rich  and  living  quietly  in  Alameda  ?  " 

"Yes,  we  heard  that,  and  it  is  true.  He  is  quite  well  off, 
but  Gasbang  and  Miller  and  Mathews  went  and  told  him  that 
my  rancho  had  been  rejected,  and  that  it  is  near  enough  to 
town  to  become  valuable,  as  soon  as  we  have  a  railroad.  Dar 
rell  believed  it,  and  is  coming  to  locate  here." 

"  Strange  that  Darrell  should  believe  such  men ;  I  suppose 
he  does  not  know  how  low  they  are." 

"  He  ought  to  know  them,  for  they  were  his  teamsters  when 
he  crossed  the  plains  in  '48.  That  is,  Miller,  Mathews,  Hughes 
and  Hager,  were  his  teamsters,  and  Gasbang  was  their  cook — 
the  cook  for  the  hired  men.  Mrs.  Darrell  had  a  colored 
woman  who  cooked  for  the  Darrell  family ;  she  despised  Gas- 
bang's  cooking  as  we  despise  his  character,  I  suppose." 

Dona  Josefa  was  silent,  and  holding  to  her  husband's  arm, 
took  a  turn  with  him  up  and 'down  the  piazza. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  there  is  no  law  to  protect  us ;  to  protect 
our  property;  what  does  your  lawyer  say  about  obtaining  re 
dress  or  protection;  is  there  no  hope?"  she  asked,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Protection  for  our  land,  or  for  our  cattle,  you  mean?  " 

"  For  both,  as  we  get  it  for  neither,"  she  said. 

"  In  the  matter  of  our  land,  we  have  to  await  for  the  attor 
ney  general,  at  Washington,  to  decide." 

"  Lizzie  was  telling  Elvira,  yesterday,  that  her  uncle  Law 
rence  is  a  friend  of  several  influential  people  in  Washington, 
and  that  George  can  get  him  to  interest  himself  in  having 
your  title  decided." 

"  But,  as  George  is  to  marry  my  daughter,  he  would  be  the 
last  man  from  whom  I  would  ask  a  favor." 

"  What  is  that  I  hear  about  not  asking  a  favor  from  me  ?  " 
said  George  Mechlin,  coming  out  on  the  piazza  with  Elvira  on 


1 8  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

his  arm,   having  just  finished  a  waltz — "  I  am   interested  to 
know  why  you  would  not  ask  it." 

/'You  know  why,  my  dear  boy.    It  isn't  exactly  the  thing  to 
bother  you  with  my  disagreeable  business." 

"And  why  not?  And  who  has  a  better  right?  And  why 
should  it  be  a  bother  to  me  to  help  you  in  any  way  I  can  ?  My 
father  spoke  to  me  about  a  dismissal  of  an  appeal,  and  I  made 
a  note  of  it.  Let  me  see,  I  think  I  have  it  in  my  pocket 
now," — said  George,  feeling  in  his  breast  pocket  for  his  mem 
orandum  book, — "yes,  here  it  is, — '  For  uncle  to  write  to  the 
attorney  general  about  dismissing  the  appeal  taken  by  the 
squatters  in  the  Alamar  grant,  against  Don  Mariano's  title, 
which  was  approved.'  Is  that  the  correct  idea?  I  only  made 
this  note  to  ask  you  for  further  particulars." 

"  You  have  it  exactly.  When  I  give  you  the  number  of  the 
case,  it  is  all  that  you  need  say  to  your  uncle.  What  I  want 
is  to  have  the  appeal  dismissed,  of  course,  but  if  the  attorney 
general  does  not  see  fit  to  do  so,  he  can,  at  least,  remand  back 
the  case  for  a  new  trial.  Anything  rather  than  this  killing 
suspense.  Killing  literally,  for  while  we  are  waiting  to  have 
my  title  settled,  the  settlers  (I  don't  mean  to  make  puns),  are 
killing  my  cattle  by  the  hundred  head,  and  I  cannot  stop 
them." 

"  But  are  there  no  laws  to  protect  property  in  California  ? " 
George  asked. 

"  Yes,  some  sort  of  laws,  which  in  my  case  seem  more  in 
tended  to  help  the  law-breakers  than  to  protect  the  law-abid 
ing,"  Don  Mariano  replied. 

"  How  so  ?  Is  there  no  law  to  punish  the  thieves  who  kill 
your  cattle  ?  " 

"  There  are  some  enactments  so  obviously  intended  to  favor 
one  class  of  citizens  against  another  class,  that  to  call  them 
laws  is  an  insult  to  law,  but  such  as  they  are,  we  must  submit 
to  them.  By  those  laws  any  man  can  come  to  my  land,  for 
instance,  plant  ten  acres  of  grain,  without  any  fence,  and  then 
catch  my  cattle  which,  seeing  the  green  grass  without  a  fence, 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  19 

will  go  to  eat  it.  Then  he  puts  them  in  a  ' corral*  and  makes 
me  pay  damages  and  so  much  per  head  for  keeping  them,  and 
costs  of  legal  proceedings  and  many  other  trumped  up  expenses, 
until  for  such  little  fields  of  grain  I  may  be  obliged  to  pay  thou 
sands  of  dollars.  Or,  if  the  grain  fields  are  large  enough  to 
bring  more  money  by  keeping  the  cattle  away,  then  the  set 
tler  shoots  the  cattle  at  any  time  without  the  least  hesita 
tion,  only  taking  care  that  no  one  sees  him  in  the  act  of  firing 
upon  the  cattle.  He  might  stand  behind  a  bush  or  tree  and 
fire,  but  then  he  is  not  seen.  No  one  can  swear  that  they 
saw  him  actually  kill  the  cattle,  and  no  jury  can  convict  him, 
for  although  the  dead  animals  may  be  there,  lying  on  the  ground 
shot,  still  no  one  saw  the  settler  kill  them.  And  so  it  is  all 
the  time.  I  must  pay  damages  and  expenses  of  litigation,  or 
my  cattle  get  killed  almost  every  day." 

"  But  this  is  infamous.  Haven't  you — the  cattle  -owners — tried 
to  have  some  law  enacted  that  will  protect  your  property?" 
George  asked.  "  It  seems  to  me  that  could  be  done." 

"  It  could  be  done,  perhaps,  if  our  positions  were  reversed, 
and  the  Spanish  people — l  the  natives' — were  the  planters  of 
the  grain  fields,  and  the  Americans  were  the  owners  of  the  cat 
tle.  But  as  we,  the  Spaniards,  are  the  owners  of  the  Spanish — 
or  Mexican — land  grants  and  also  the  owners  of  the  cattle 
ranches,  our  State  legislators  will  not  make  any  law  to  protect 
cattle.  They  make  laws  *  to  protect  agriculture11  (they  say 
proudly),  which  means  to  drive  to  the  wall  all  owners  of  cattle 
ranchos.  I  am  told  that  at  this  session  of  the  legislature  a  law 
more  strict  yet  will  be  passed,  which  will  be  ostensibly  '  to  pro 
tect  agriculture,'  but  in  reality  to  destroy  cattle  and  ruin  the 
native  Californians.  The  agriculture  of  this  State  does  not  re 
quire  legislative  protection.  Such  pretext  is  absurd." 

"  I  thought  that  the  rights  of  the  Spanish  people  were  pro 
tected  by  our  treaty  with  Mexico,"  George  said. 

"  Mexico  did  not  pay  much  attention  to  the  future  welfare 
of  the  children  she  left  to  their  fate  in  the  hands  of  a  nation 
which  had  no  sympathies  for  us,"  said  Dona  Josefa,  feelingly. 


20  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

"  I  remember,"  calmly  said  Don  Mariano,  "  that  when  I 
first  read  the  text  of  the  treaty  of  Guadalupe  Hidalgo,  I  felt  a 
bitter  resentment  against  my  people;  against  Mexico,  the 
mother  country,  who  abandoned  us — her  children — with  so 
slight  a  provision  of  obligatory  stipulations  for  protection. 
But  afterwards,  upon  mature  reflection,  I  saw  that  Mexico 
did  as  much  as  could  have  been  reasonably  expected  at  the 
time.  In  the  very  preamble  of  the  treaty  the  spirit  of  peace 
and  friendship,  which  animated  both  nations,  was  carefully 
made  manifest.  That  spirit  was  to  be  the  foundation  of  the 
relations  between  the  conqueror  and  conquered.  How  could 
Mexico  have  foreseen  then  that  when  scarcely  half  a  dozen  years 
should  have  elapsed  the  trusted  conquerors  would,  *  In  Con 
gress  Assembled?  pass  laws  which  were  to  be  retroactive  upon 
the  defenceless,  helpless,  conquered  people,  in  order  to  despoil 
them  ?  The  treaty  said  that  our  rights  would  be  the  same  as 
those  enjoyed  by  all  other  American  citizens.  But,  you  see, 
Congress  takes  very  good  care  not  to  enact  retroactive  laws  for 
Americans;  laws  to  take  away  from  American  citizens  the 
property  which  they  hold  now,  already,  with  a  recognized  legal 
title.  No,  indeed.  But  they  do  so  quickly  enough  with  us — - 
with  us,  the  Spano-Americans,  who  were  to  enjoy  equal  rights, 
mind  you,  according  to  the  treaty  of  peace.  This  is  what  seems 
to  me  a  breach  of  faith,  which  Mexico  could  neither  presup 
pose  nor  prevent." 

"  It  is  nothing  else,  I  am  sorry  and  ashamed  to  say,"  George 
said.  "  I  never  knew  much  about  the  treaty  with  Mexico,  but 
I  never  imagined  we  had  acted  so  badly." 

"  I  think  but  few  Americans  know  or  believe  to  what  extent 
we  have  been  wronged  by  Congressional  action.  And  truly,  I 
believe  that  Congress  itself  did  not  anticipate  the  effect  of  its 
laws  upon  us,  and  how  we  would  be  despoiled,  we,  the  con 
quered  people,"  said  Don  Mariano,  sadly. 

"  It  is  the  duty  of  law-givers  to  foresee  the  effect  of  the  laws 
they  impose  upon  people,"  said  Dona  Josefa. 

"That  I  don't  deny,  but  I  fear  that  the  conquered  have 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  21 

always  but  a  weak  voice,  which  nobody  hears,"  said  Don  Ma 
riano.  "We  have  had  no  one  to  speak  for  us.  By  the  treaty 
of  Guadalupe  Hidalgo  the  American  nation  pledged  its  honor 
to  respect  our  land  titles  just  the  same  as  Mexico  would  have 
done.  Unfortunately,  however,  the  discovery  of  gold  brought 
to  California  the  riff-raff  of  the  world,  and  with  it  a  horde  of 
land-sharks,  all  possessing  the  privilege  of  voting,  and  most 
of  them  coveting  our  lands,  for  which  they  very  quickly  began 
to  clamor.  There  was,  and  still  is,  plenty  of  good  govern 
ment  land,  which  any  one  can  take.  But  no.  The  forbidden 
fruit  is  the  sweetest.  They  do  not  want  government  land. 
They  want  the  land  of  the  Spanish  people,  because  we  'have 
too  much,'  they  say.  So,  to  win  their  votes,  the  votes  of  the 
squatters,  our  representatives  in  Congress  helped  to  pass  laws 
declaring  all  lands  in  California  open  to  pre-emption,  as  in 
Louisiana,  for  instance.  Then,  as  a  coating  of  whitewash  to 
the  stain  on  the  nation's  honor,  a  '.land  commission '  was  es 
tablished  to  examine  land  titles.  Because,  having  pledged  the 
national  word  to  respect  our  rights,  it  would  be  an  act  of  de 
spoliation,  besides  an  open  violation  of  pledged  honor,  to  take 
the  lands  without  some  pretext  of  a  legal  process.  So  then, 
we  became  obliged  to  present  our  titles  before  the  said  land 
commission  to  be  examined  and  approved  or  rejected.  While 
these  legal  proceedings  are  going  on,  the  squatters  locate  their 
claims  and  raise  crops  on  our  lands,  which  they  convert  into 
money  to  fight  our  titles.  But  don't  let  me,  with  my  dis 
agreeable  subject  spoil  your  dance.  Go,  back  to  your  lancers, 
and  tell  Lizzie  to  excuse  me,"  said  Don  Mariano. 

Lizzie  would  not  excuse  him.  With  the  privilege  of  a  future 
daughter-in-law,  she  insisted  that  Don  Mariano  should  be  her 
partner  in  the  lancers,  which  would  be  a  far  pleasanter  occupa 
tion  than  to  be  walking  up  and  down  the  porch  thinking  about 
squatters. 

Don  Mariano  therefore  followed  Lizzie  to  their  place  in  the 
dance.  Mercedes  sat  at  the  piano  to  play  for  them.  The 
other  icouples  took  their  respective  positions. 


22  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

The  well-balanced  mind  and  kindly  spirit  of  Don  Mariano 
soon  yielded  to  the  genial  influences  surrounding  him.  He 
would  not  bring  his  trouble  to  mar  the  pleasure  of  others.  He 
danced  with  his  children  as  gaily  as  the  gayest.  He  insisted 
that  Mr.  Mechlin,  too,  should  dance,  and  this  gentleman  gra 
ciously  yielded  and  led  Elvira  through  a  quadrille,  protesting 
that  he  had  not  danced  for  twenty  years. 

"  You  have  not  danced  because  you  were  sick,  but  now  you 
are  well.  Don't  be  lazy,"  said  Mrs.  Mechlin. 

"  You  would  be  paying  to  San  Diego  climate  a  very  poor 
compliment  by  refusing  to  dance  now,"  George  added. 

"That  is  so,  papa.  Show  us  how  well  you  feel,"  Lizzie  said. 
.  "  I  shall  have  to  dance  a  hornpipe  to  do  that,"  Mr.  Mechlin 
answered,  laughing. 

To  understand  this  remark  better,  the  reader  must  know 
that  Mr.  James  Mechlin  had  come  to  San  Diego,  four  years 
previously,  a  living  skeleton,  not  expected  to  last  another  win 
ter.  He  had  lost  his  health  by  a  too  close  application  to  busi 
ness,  and  when  he  sought  rest  and  relaxation  his  constitution 
seemed  permanently  undermined.  He  tried  the  climate  of 
Florida.  He  spent  several  years  in  Italy  and  in  the  south  of 
France,  but  he  felt  no  better.  At  last,  believing  his  malady 
incurable,  he  returned  to  his  New  York  home  to  die.  In  New 
York  a  friend,  who  also  had  been  an  invalid,  but  whose  health 
had  been  restored  in  Southern  California,  advised  him  to  try 
the  salubrious  air  of  San  Diego.  With  but  little  hope,  and 
only  to  please  his  family,  Mr.  Mechlin  came  to  San  Diego,  and 
his  health  improved  so  rapidly  that  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
buy  a  country  place  and  make  San  Diego  his  home.  William 
Mathews  heard  of  this,  and  offered  to  sell  his  place  on  what 
Mr.  Mechlin  thought  very  moderate  terms.  A  lawyer  was 
employed  to  pass  upon  the  title,  and  on  his  recommendation 
the  purchase  was  made.  Mr.  Mechlin  had  the  Mathews  house 
moved  back  near  the  barn,  and  a  new  and  much  larger  one 
built.  When  this  was  finished  the  Mechlins  moved  into  it, 
and  Mr.  Mechlin  devoted  himself  to  cultivating  trees  and 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  23 

flowers,  and  his  health  was  bettered  every  day.  This  was  the 
compensation  to  his  wife  and  two  daughters  for  exiling  them 
selves  from  New  York;  for  it  was  exile  to  Caroline  and  Lizzie 
to  give  up  their  fine  house  in  New  York  City  to  come  and  live 
on  a  California  rancho. 

Soon,  however,  these  two  young  ladies  passed  their  time 
more  pleasantly,  after  making  the  acquaintance  of  the  Alamar 
family,  and  soon  their  acquaintance  ripened  into  friendship,  to 
be  made  closer  by  the  intended  marriage  of  Gabriel — Don 
Mariano's  eldest  son — to  Lizzie.  Shortly  after,  George — Mr. 
Mechlin's  only  son — came  on  a  visit,  and  when  he  returned  to 
New  York  he  was  already  engaged  to  Elvira,  third  daughter  of 
Senor  Alamar. 

Now,  George  Mechlin  was  making  his  second  visit  to  his 
family.  He  had  found  New  York  so  very  dull  and  stupid  on 
his  return  from  California  that  when  Christmas  was  approach 
ing  he  told  his  uncle  and  aunt — with  whom  he  lived — that  he 
wanted  to  go  and  spend  Christmas  and  New  Year's  Day  with 
his  family  in  California. 

"Very  well;  I  wish  I  could  go  with  you.  Give  my  love  to 
James,  and  tell  him  I  am  delighted  at  his  getting  so  well,"  Mr. 
Lawrence  Mechlin  said,  and  George  had  his  leave  of  absence 
Mr.  Lawrence  Mechlin  was  president  of  the  bank  of  which 
George  was  cashier,  so  it  was  not  difficult  for  him  to  get  tht 
assistant  cashier  to  attend  to  his  duties  when  he  was  away, 
particularly  as  the  assistant  cashier  himself  was  George's  most 
devoted  friend.  George  could  have  only  twelve  days  in  Cali 
fornia,  but  to  see  Elvira  for  even  so  short  a  time  he  would  have 
traveled  a  much  longer  distance. 

Mr.  James  Mechlin  affirmed  repeatedly  that  he  owed  his 
improved  health  to  the  genial  society  of  the  Alamar  family  as 
much  as  to  the  genial  climate  of  San  Diego  County.  Mr. 
Mechlin,  however,  was  not  the  only  one  who  had  paid  the 
same  tribute  to  that  most  delightful  family,  the  most  charming 
of  which — the  majority  vote  said — was  Don  Mariano  himself. 
His  nobility  of  character  and  great  kindness  of  heart  were  well 
known  to  everybody. 


24  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

The  Alamar  family  was  quite  patriarchal  in  size,  if  the  collat 
eral  branches  be  taken  into  account,  for  there  were  many 
brothers,  nephews  and  nieces.  These,  however,  lived  in  the 
adjoining  rancho,  and  yet  another  branch  in  Lower  California, 
in  Mexico.  Don  Mariano's  own  immediate  family  was  com 
posed  of  his  wife  and  six  children,  two  sons  and  four  daughters. 

All  of  these,  as  we  have  seen,  were  having  a  dance.  The 
music  was  furnished  by  the  young  ladies  themselves,  taking 
their  turn  at  the  piano,  assisted  by  Madam  Halier  (Mercedes' 
French  governess),  who  was  always  ready  to  play  for  the  girls 
to  dance.  Besides  the  Mechlins,  there  were  three  or  four  young 
gentlemen  from  town,  but  there  were  so  many  Alamares  (broth 
ers,  nieces  and  nephews,  besides)  that  the  room  seemed  quite 
well  filled.  Such  family  gatherings  were  frequent,  making  the 
Alamar  house  very  gay  and  pleasant. 

George*  Mechlin  would  have  liked  to  prolong  his  visit,  but 
he  could  not.  He  consoled  himself  looking  forward  to  the 
ninth  of  June,  when  he  would  come  again  to  make  a  visit  of' 
two  months'  duration.  On  his  return  East,  before  renewing 
his  duties  at  the  bank,  he  went  to  Washington  to  see  about  the 
dismissal  of  the  appeal.  Unfortunately,  the  attorney  general 
had  to  absent  himself  about  that  time,  and  the  matter  being 
left  with  the  solicitor  general,  nothing  was  done.  George 
explained  to  Don  Mariano  how  the  matter  was  delayed,  and 
his  case  remained  undecided  yet  for  another  year  longer. 


CHAPTER  III. 
PRE-EMPTING  UNDER  THE  LAW. 

"All  aboard  for  San  Diego!"  shouted  a  voice  from  a  wagon, 
as  it  rumbled  past  Darrell,  who  walked  leisurely  with  a  satchel 
in  his  hand,  swinging  it  unconsciously,  lost  in  thought.  He 
looked  up  and  saw  that  the  wagon  whence  the  voice  came  car 
ried  ten  or  twelve  men,  sitting  on  trunks  and  packages  and 
carpet-bags.  These  men  Mathews  and  Gasbang  had  presented 
to  him,  saying  that  they  were  settlers  already  residing  at  the 
Alamar  rancho,  and  others  who  were  going  down  to  take  up 
claims,  at  the  same  time  that  he  would  locate  his.  Darrell 
looked  at  his  future  neighbors  with  feelings  of  anything  but 
pleasure.  The  broad,  vulgar  face  of  Gasbang,  with  its  square 
jaws,  gray  beard,  closely  clipped,  but  never  shaved,  his  com 
pressed,  thin,  bloodless  lips,  his  small,  pale,  restless  eyes  and 
flat  nose,  Darrell  soon  recognized,  though  the  wagon  was  going 
rapidly.  Mathews'  visage  was  equally  noticeable  for  its  ugli 
ness,  though  of  a  different  type;  for  his  face  was  long  and 
shaved;  his  nose  was  pinched  and  peaked  and  red;  his  cheeks 
were  flabby;  and  his  long,  oily,  dusty,  hair  dragged  over  his 
neck  in  matted,  meshy  locks,  while  a  constant  frown  settled  on 
his  brow.  As  he  was  broad-shouldered  and  rather  tall,  his 
face  seemed  made  for  some  other  man  much  weaker  than  him 
self.  His  face  looked  mean  and  discontented,  while  his  body 
seemed  strong  and  self-reliant. 

The  wagon  had  arrived  and  gone  away,  and  the  men  had 
walked  aboard  the  boat,  when  Darrell,  still  swinging  his  satchel 
abstractedly,  stood  on  the  wharf  looking  at  the  steamer  as  if 
not  quite  resolved  to  go.  He  felt  no  sympathy,  no  liking,  for 
any  of  those  men  with  whom  he  was  now  associated. 


26  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

It  was  different  to  have  Gasbang  as  his  hired  man,  as 
before,  but  now  he  was  not  under  orders,  and  was  much  older. 
Years,  moreover,  had  not  improved  his  low  nature.  Darrell 
had  no  higher  opinion  of  the  others.  He  was  sure  these  were 
not  the  sort  of  people  whom  his  wife  would  like  to  have  for 
neighbors.  He  felt  self-accused  and  irresolute.  A  shout  from 
Gasbang,  who  was  observing  him  from  the  steamer's  deck, 
made  Darrell  look  up  quickly,  ashamed  of  having  betrayed  his 
irresolution.  "  I  can  return  immediately,  if  things  don't  suit 
me,"  he  thought,  walking  towards  the  gang-plank. 

"  Come  on.  Your  luggage  is  all  aboard,  I  took  care  of  it," 
Gasbang  said,  coming  to  meet  him.  He  snatched  Darrell's 
satchel,  in  friendly  obsequiousness,  to  carry  it  for  him.  "  Come 
along;  you'll  be  left,"  said  he,  and  Darrell  followed  him,  half- 
disgusted  at  his  vulgar  officiousness.  "  I  got  your  berth  for 
you.  The  steamer  is  so  crowded,  that  men  have  to  be  crammed 
into  rooms  by  the  bunch,  so  you  and  I  and  Mathews  must 
room  together." 

"That  is  all  right,"  said  Darrell,  with  a  shiver  of  disgust, 
and  went  to  take  a  seat  on  deck  where  he  could  be  alone. 

The  bustle  and  hurry  of  getting  off  was  over  at  last,  and  the 
steamer  was  furrowing  her  way  through  the  spacious  bay  of  San 
Francisco  towards  the  Golden  Gate.  Groups  of  passengers 
stood  here  and  there,  admiring  the  beautiful  harbor  and  its 
surrounding  country.  Darrell  sat  alone,  fixing  his  gaze  upon 
the  receding  verdure  of  Alameda  County.  Above  that  green, 
undulating  line  of  diminishing  hills,  which  seemed  to  fly  from 
him,  Darrell  could  see  plainly  one  face,  one  form,  beautiful  to 
him  as  none  other  could  be,  the  face  and  form  of  his  wife,  his 
beloved  Mary.  This  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  left  her  for 
any  longer  time  than  a  two  days'  absence,  since  they  were 
married.  Now  he  might  be  absent  several  months,  for  if  he 
decided  to  locate  in  San  Diego  County,  he  would  first  build  a 
house  before  he  sent  for  his  family.  He  would  first  send  for 
Clarence— his  eldest  son — and  then,  when  a  comfortable  home 
was  prepared,  the  family  would  come. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON  27 

The  voyage  down  the  coast  was  made  safely.  Darrell  had 
managed  to  keep  away  from  his  fellow-travelers,  to  think  of 
home  unmolested. 

It  was  a  bright  morning  of  January,  1872,  when  he  stood 
far  forward,  watching  the  course  of  the  steamer  Orizaba,  as  she 
made  her  way  around  Point  Loma,  then  between  Ballast  Point 
and  the  sandy  peninsula,  and  passing  by  La  Playa,  came  in 
sight  of  San  Diego  city. 

"Here  we  are,"  said  John  Gasbang;  "how  do  you  like  the 
looks  of  our  little  city,  Mr.  Darrell?" 

"Very  well;  it  is  larger  than  I  supposed,  and  the  site  of  it 
seems  very  pleasant." 

"  Pleasant !  I  should  say  it  was.  A  perfect  slope,  sir,  as 
gentle  and  regular  as  if  made  to  order.  The  best  drained  city 
in  the  world,  sir,  when  we  put  in  sewers.  Too  poor  for  that, 
yet,  sir,  but  we  are  coming  to  it,  sir,  growing,  growing,  sir." 

"  When  we  get  the  railroad,"  added  Mathews,  with  a  mouth 
full  of  tobacco,  spitting  profusely  on  the  deck. 

"Exactly,  and  we'll  soon  have  that.  Our  news  from  Wash 
ington  is  very  encouraging.  Tom  Scott  will  visit  us  this 
summer,"  Gasbang  said. 

"  I  like  a  town  with  plenty  of  trees,"  said  Darrell,  with  his 
gaze  fixed  on  the  approaching  panorama,  thinking  that  his  wife 
would  be  pleased  with  the  place,  she  being  so  fond  of  trees, 
"  I  had  no  idea  you  had  so  many  trees  about  you.  Many  are 
small,  yet,  but  all  seem  healthy." 

ts  And  health-giving  trees,  they  are,  too.  Most  of  them  are 
eucalyptus  and  pepper  trees,  the  healthiest  in  the  world.  You 
never  hear  of  any  malarial  fevers  in  San  Diego,  sir,  never. 
Our  perfect  climate,  the  fine  sloping  ground  of  our  town  site> 
our  eucalyptus  trees,  sea  breezes  and  mountain  air,  make  San 
Diego  a  most  healthy  little  city,"  said  Gasbang. 

"  That  is  an  excellent  recommendation,  as  life  is  not  worth 
having  without  health,"  Darrell  observed. 

"We  have  it  here,"  Hughes  said.  "A  man  has  to  be  very 
imprudent  not  to  keep  well  in  our  climate,  sir.  All  we  want 


28  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

now  is  a  little  stimulus  of  business  prosperity,  and  the  railroad 
is  sure  to  bring  us  that.  Then  San  Diego  will  be  the  best  place 
on  the  coast  for  a  residence." 

The  loud  report  of  a  cannon,  close  by,  made  Darrell  jump 
and  look  around  quickly,  not  knowing  what  that  explosion 
could  mean. 

"  That  is  our  visiting  card  to  the  people  of  San  Diego,  to 
announce  our  coming,"  said  the  captain,  laughingly.  I  am 
sorry  it  startled  you." 

"  That  is  nothing.  I  didn't  know  I  had  nerves.  I  believe 
that  is  what  women  call  it.  I  was  not  expecting  such  a  military 
salute,"  Darrell  said. 

"  O  yes,  we  always  give  it.  The  San  Diego  people  are  very 
military.  At  least,  I  should  say  the  settlers  on  Senor  Alamar's 
rancho  are,  as  I  hear  they  practice  rifle  shooting  there  all  the 
time,"  the  captain  said,  looking  at  Mathews  and  Gasbang. 

"  That  is  a  shot  at  us,"  Gasbang  answered,  laughing. 

"But  it  is  a  blank  cartridge,  meant  not  to  hurt,"  the  captain 
replied. 

"The  rifle  practice  is  in  dark  nights,"  said  a  young  Spaniard, 
who  had  been  listening  at  what  was  said  by  the  others. 

"  Or  in  the  daytime,  if  the  cattle  deserve  it,"  Mathews  said. 

"That  is  very  creditable  and  brave,  to  shoot  tame  cows," the 
Spaniard  rejoined. 

"Perhaps  you  had  better  come  and  try  it,"  Mathews  returned. 

"  Thank  you.  It  is  the  mischievous  brutes  I  would  like  to 
shoot,  not  the  good,  useful  cattle;"  so  saying,  the  Spaniard 
walked  away,  followed  by  the  scowls  of  the  settlers. 

"  That  is  impudence  for  you,"  Gasbang  exclaimed. 

"  Those  greasers  ain't  half  crushed  yet.  We  have  to  tame 
them  like  they  do  their  mustangs,  or  shoot  them,  as  we  shoot 
their  cattle,"  said  Mathews. 

"  O,  no.  No  such  violent  means  are  necessary.  All  we  have 
to  do  is  to  take  their  lands,  and  finish  their  cattle,"  said 
Hughes,  sneeringly,  looking  at  Darrell  for  approval.  But  he 
did  not  get  it.  Darrell  did  not  care  for  the  Spanish  population 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  29 

of  California,  but  he  did  not  approve  of  shooting  cattle  in  the 
way  which  the  foregoing  conversation  indicated.  To  do  this, 
was  useless  cruelty  and  useless  waste  of  valuable  property,  no 
matter  to  whom  it  might  belong.  To  destroy  it  was  a  loss  to 
the  State.  It  was  folly. 

"Why  must  cattle  be  shot?  Can't  they  be  kept  off,  away 
from  your  crops  without  shooting  them?"  he  asked. 

"  Not  always.  At  first,  that  is,  for  the  first  three  years  after 
we  located  our  claims,"  Gasbang  said;  "we  had  to  shoot  them 
all  the  time.  Now  the  Don  has  sold  a  good  many,  or  sent 
them  to  the  mountains,  so  that  few  have  been  killed." 

"  I  suppose  fencing  would  be  too  expensive." 

"Phew!     It  would  be  ruinous,  impossible,"  Mathews  said. 

"  Mr.  Mechlin  is  the  only  one  who  has  attempted  to  put  up 
any  fences,"  Romeo  said,  who  had  been  listening  in  silence. 

"  He  did  so,  because  he  is  an  old  hypocrite,"  Mathews  said. 

"Because  his  daughter  Lizzie  is  going  to  marry  Gabriel 
Alamar,  and  of  course,  they  have  to  be  on  friendly  terms," 
said  Hughes. 

"That  ain't  the  reason.  He  fenced  a  hundred  acres  the 
first  year,  and  he  never  sows  outside,  so  that  he's  'not  at  all 
troubled  by  the  Don's  cattle,"  said  Romeo. 

"  But  Gabriel  is  going  to  marry  Lizzie  all  the  same,  and  the 
two  families  are  as  thick  as  can  be.  Old  Mechlin  has  gone 
back  on  us.  I  wish  he  would  go  away,"  Mathews  said. 

"Why  should  he  go?  He  paid  a  very  good  price  for  his 
farm,  and  has  made  many  improvements,"  said  Romeo. 

"Who  did  he  buy  from?"  asked  Darrell. 

"From  me.  I  sold  him  that  claim,  and  took  up  another  a 
mile  up  the  valley,"  said  Mathews. 

"  And  a  good  bargain  it  was,  too,"  Romeo  observed. 

Mathews  gave  him  a  black  look,  but  made  no  answer. 

The  steamer  had  now  reached  the  wharf.  The  deck  was 
filled  with  passengers  and  their  baggage  ready  for  shore.  Pitti- 
kin,  with  wife  and  daughters  blonde  and  freckled,  and  Hughes, 
with  his  wife  and  daughters  dark  and  gypsy-looking,  were  all 
there,  ready  for  their  drive  to  Alamar. 


30  THE    SQUATTER    AND   THE    DON. 

There  were  several  wagons,  light  and  heavy,  waiting  to  con 
vey  the  newly-arrived  and  their  luggage  to  the  Alamar  rancho. 
Darrell,  having  his  choice  of  conveyances,  preferred  to  go  in  a 
light  wagon  with  Romeo  Hancock,  but  Gasbang  and  Mathews 
joined  him.  Miller  and  Hager  had  come  to  meet  their  prodigal 
sons,  who  had  been  in  San  Francisco  for  several  months,  when 
they  had  permission  to  remain  only  a  few  weeks.  But  they 
had  fallen  into  Peter  Roper's  company,  and  that  individual  had 
represented  the  fascinations  of  whiskey  most  alluringly  to 
them,  advising  them  to  have  a  good  time  now  that  they  had 
the  opportunity.  They  yielded  to  the  tempter,  and  now  had 
returned  home  like  repentant  prodigals. 

In  a  few  hours  Darrell  was  driving  by  Don  Mariano  Alamar's 
house,  a  one-story  mansion  on  a  low  hill,  with  a  broad  piazza  in 
front,  and  in  the  interior  a  court  formed  by  two  wings,  and  a  row 
of  rooms  variously  occupied  at  its  back.  That  the  house  was 
commodious,  Darrell  could  see.  There  was  a  flower  garden  in 
front.  At  the  back  there  were  several  "  corrales "  for  cattle 
and  horses.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill,  on  the  left,  there  was  an 
orchard,  and  some  grain  fields  enclosed  with  good  fences. 

Darrell  took  notice  of  all  these  particulars.  He  also  no 
ticed  that  there  were  females  on  the  front  piazza.  He  was 
taken  to  see  the  best  unoccupied  lands  to  make  his  selection. 
He  ran  his  practiced  eye  over  the  valley  from  the  highest  point 
on  the  hill.  He  then  came  to  the  next  bench  ;  he  stopped 
there,  also,  and  finally  came  to  the  broad  slope  of  the  foot-hills. 

"  I  think  I'll  locate  here,"  said  he,  "  if  no  one  else  has  already 
filed  a  claim  to  this  land." 

This  he  said  to  his  fellow-settlers,  all  being  present,  address 
ing  all. 

"I  am  sure  I  have  no  objection,"  said  Hughes. 

"Nor  I,  neither,"  said  Gasbang.  "What  do  you  say,  Pitti- 
kin  and  Mathews?  Do  you  know  if  this  land  is  located,  or 
who  done  it  ?  " 

Mathews  shook  his  head  in  the  negative,  and  kept  on  chew 
ing  his  tobacco  in  silence. 


UN 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  31 

Pittikin  said,  "  I  reckon  nobody  is  located  here,  and  if  they 
done  it,  why  don't  they  leave  stakes  ?  They  leave  no  stakes, 
no  notice  to  settlers;  they  can't  make  any  row  if  somebody  else 
takes  the  land." 

"  Well,  I  want  to  respect  everybody's  right  ;  so  I  want  you  all 
to  bear  witness,  that  I  found  no  stakes  or  notices  of  anybody. 
I  don't  want  to  jump  anybody's  claim  ;  I  want  a  fair  deal.  I 
shall  locate  two  claims  here  —  one  in  my  own  name  and  one  for 
my  oldest  son,  Clarence,"  said  Darrell. 

"  You'll  take  320  acres?"  asked  Hughes. 

"Yes,  320  acres,  —  according  to  law,"  replied  Darrell. 

"  All  right  Let  us  measure  them  now,"  said  Gasbang.  "  We 
have  time  to  mark  the  limits  and  put  the  corner  stakes.  I  have 
a  cord  here  in  my  wagon,  which  is  a  chain's  length.  That  will 
do  the  business." 

"That  will  do  temporarily,  I  suppose;  but  I'll  have  the 
two  claims  properly  surveyed  afterwards  according  to  law," 
Darrell  said. 

"  Of  course,  you  will.  We  all  know  you  will  do  the  fair 
thing  by  everybody,  and  follow  the  law  strictly,"  said  Hughes. 
In  which  opinion  all  concurred. 

"  Have  you  all  made  your  selections  ?"  Darrell  asked  Hughes. 

"  Yes  ;  Pittikin  and  I  will  locate  near  Hancock.  We  like 
that  valley  ;  it  is  further  off,  but  better  soil,"  said  Hughes.  "My 
oldest  boy  will  put  a  claim  near  me,  and  Miller's  two  boys 
have  staked  theirs  also.  I  think  we'll  like  that  location  bet 
ter." 

"I  am  glad  you  like  it.  I  think  this  is  good  enough  soil  for 
me,"  Darrell  said. 

"  It  is  good  enough  for  anybody.  The  whole  rancho  is  all 
good  soil.  Let  us  put  the  stakes  now,"  said  Gasbang  ;  and 
assisted  by  Mathews,  Romeo  Hancock  and  Sumner  Pittikin, 
Darrell  proceeded  by  making  a  rough  guess  to  measure  320 
acres  (more  or  less),  and  put  the  corner  stakes. 

"  This  is  what  I  call  business,"  said  Gasbang,  carrying  cheer 
fully  one  end  of  the  rope  used  for  measurement;  "and  all 


32  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

inside  of  the  law.  That  is  the  beauty  of  it — all  perfectly 
lawful." 

And  so  it  was. 

The  stakes  having  been  placed,  Darrell  felt  satisfied.  Next 
day  he  would  have  the  claim  properly  filed,  and  in  due  time 
a  surveyor  would  measure  them.  All  would  be  done  "  accord 
ing  to  law,"  and  in  this  easy  way  more  land  was  taken  from  its 
legitimate  owner. 

This  certainly  was  a  more  simple  way  of  appropriating  the 
property  of  "the  conquered"  than  in  the  days  of  Alaric  or 
Hannibal. 

There  would  have  been  bloodshed  then.  Now  tears  only 
flowed ;  silent  tears  of  helpless  discouragement ;  of  a  presenti 
ment  of  impending  desolation. 

Sadly  Dona  Josefa  and  her  daughters  had  witnessed  from 
the  half-closed  shutters  of  their  bedroom  windows  Mr.  Dar- 
rell's  performance,  and  fully  anticipated  serious  trouble  there 
from. 

Don  Mariano  Alamar,  Gabriel  and  Victoriano — his  two 
sons — had  also  silently  witnessed  Mr.  Darrell's  lawful  appro 
priation  of  their  own  property.  Gabriel  was  pale  and  calm. 
Victoriano  was  biting  his  lips,  and  his  face  was  flushed. 

"  The  government  has  for  sale  hundreds  of  millions  of  acres, 
but  yet  these  men  must  come  and  take  my  land,  as  if  there  was 
no  other,"  said  Don  Mariano,  sadly. 

"And  as  we  pay  the  taxes  on  the  land  that  they  will  culti 
vate,  our  taxes  will  double  next  year,"  Gabriel  added. 

"Undoubtedly.  That  climax  to  injustice  has  been  the 
most  fatal  of  all  the  hardships  imposed  upon  us.  George 
could  not  believe  me  when  I  told  him  that  we  (the  land 
owners)  have  to  pay  the  taxes  on  the  land  cultivated  by  the 
pro  emptors,  and  upon  all  the  improvements  they  make  and 
enjoy.  When  he  at  last  understood  that  such  unfair  laws 
did  exist,  he  was  amazed,  but  understood  then  why  the  set 
tlers  wished  to  prolong  litigation,  since  it  is  lthe  natives'  who 
must  bear  the  burden  of  taxation,  while  the  titles  are  in  the 
courts,  and  thus  the  pre-emptors  hold  the  land  free." 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  33 

"  I  wish  we  were  squatters,"  Victoriano  remarked. 

"  During  litigation,  yes ;  but  there  have  been  cases  where 
honest  men  have,  in  good  faith,  taken  lands  as  squatters,  and 
after  all,  had  to  give  them  up.  No,  I  don't  blame  the  squat 
ters  ;  they  are  at  times  like  ourselves,  victims  of  a  wrong  legis 
lation,  which  unintentionally  cuts  both  ways.  They  were  set 
loose  upon  us,  but  a  law  without  equity  recoils  upon  them  more 
cruelly.  Then  we  are  all  sufferers,  all  victims  of  a  defective 
legislation  and  subverted  moral  principles." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

EFFORTS  TO  RIGHT  THE  WRONG. 

Darrell  was  not  the  man  to  make  any  delay  in  putting  into 
practice  a  project,  when  once  adopted.  He  therefore  imme 
diately  wrote  home  saying  that  he  "  had  located,"  and  wished 
Clarence  to  come  down  as  soon  as  home  matters  permitted  it. 
All  the  crops  must  be  in  first,  so  that  Everett  and  Webster 
could  take  care  of  the  farm  when  Clarence  left.  They  had 
two  good  farm  hands  and  a  man  to  take  care  of  the  dairy,  but 
still,  Darrell  made  his  boys  give  their  personal  attention  to  all 
the  work  on  the  farm.  He  wrote  to  Clarence  that  he  would 
build  a  small  house  quickly,  which  afterwards  could  be  used 
for  the  hired  men,  and  would  wait  until  he  came  down  to  begin 
building  their  dwelling  house.  That  he  would  level  the 
ground  for  the  house,  sink  a  couple  of  wells  and  put  up  two 
windmills,  the  running  stream  not  being  sufficient. 

"  I  think  I  had  better  buy  the  lumber  for  the  house  up  here 
and  charter  a  schooner  to  send  it  down,"  Clarence  said  to  his 
mother,  after  reading  his  father's  letter. 

"  Did  he  say  anything  to  you  about  the  condition  of  the 
title?"  Mrs.  Darrell  asked. 

"Not  a  word.  I  suppose  the  land  is  vacant,"  Clarence  re 
plied.  Mrs.  Darrell  shook  her  head,  as  if  in  doubt. 

"  I  want  you  to  see  to  that,  before  there  is  any  house  built 
in  which  I  shall  be  expected  to  reside,"  she  said.  "The  first 
thing  you  do  when  you  get  there  is  to  inquire  whether  the  land 
has  been  finally  rejected  and  there  is  no  litigation  for  it.  If 
there  is,  I  want  you  to  pay  for  it  to  the  owner.  And  if  he  will 
not  or  cannot  sell,  write  to  me  at  once." 

"  Very  well,   mother,  I  shall  do  as  you   say,  and  I  assure 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  35 

you  I  do  not  wish  father  to  take  up  any  land  claimed  by  any 
one  under  a  Mexican  title.  I  think  those  Spanish  people 
ought  to  be  allowed  to  keep  the  land  that  their  government 
gave  them.  We  ought  not  to  have  made  any  laws  that  would 
place  their  titles  in  a  bad  light  and  be  questioned.  We  should 
have  accepted  the  legality  they  had  before  their  own  Mexican 
government,  without  making  some  other  legality  requisite,  to 
please  ourselves,"  Clarence  said. 

"That  has  always  been  my  opinion,  but  I  have  failed  to 
convince  your  father.  However,  with  our  combined  efforts,  we 
might  dissuade  him  from  his  present  way  of  thinking,"  said 
Mrs.  Darrell. 

Clarence  would  not  be  able  to  leave  home  for  a  few  weeks 
yet.  In  the  meantime,  his  father  had  not  been  idle,  he  had 
lost  no  time  in  carrying  out  his  plans,  and  shortly  after  making 
his  "location"  in  the  manner  described,  he  had  several  men 
engaged  in  different  employments  at  his  place.  When  he  had 
already  begun  building  the  small  house,  of  which  he  spoke  in 
his  letter  to  Clarence,  Don  Mariano,  accompanied  by  his  two 
sons,  rode  up  to  the  place  where  he  was  then  superintending 
his  workmen. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Darrell,"  said  Don  Mariano. 

"  Good  morning,"  Darrell  answered,  laconically. 

"  Can  I  speak  a  few  words  with  you?" 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  going  a  few  steps  nearer. 

"I  see  you  have  taken  up  some  land  here,  and  I  suppose 
you  think  it  is  government  land,  but  if  so,  you  are  misinformed. 
This  land  belongs  to  me,"  Don  Mariano  said. 

"  Why  is  it  reported  rejected  then?  I  have  seen  the  law 
report,  stating  that  your  title  was  rejected." 

"Yes,  I  know  that  such  is  the  case.  For  some  mistake  or 
other  the  entry  was  made  placing  my  title  in  the  list  of  those 
rejected,  but  I  assure  you  that  it  is  a  mistake.  My  title  is  now 
before  the  attorney  general  in  Washington,  because,  having 
been  approved,  the  settlers  took  an  appeal.  If  the  attorney 
general  sustains  the  appeal,  I  suppose  he  will  remand  the  case 


36  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

for  a  new  trial,  but  I  have  reasons  to  suppose  he  will  dismiss 
the  appeal  and  affirm  the  decision  of  the  District  Court  in  my 
favor." 

"  We  will  see  about  that,"  Darrell  said. 

"  Undoubtedly  we  will ;  meantime  I  thought  it  was  best  to 
undeceive  you,  and  give  you  warning  that  you  are  building  on 
my  land." 

"Your  land  if  you  get  it,"  was  the  answer. 

"  If  you  knew  the  condition  of  my  title  I  don't  think  that 
you  would  doubt  that  this  land  is  mine.  However,  all  I  wish 
to  do  is  to  prevent  you  from  spending  money  here  and  then  natu 
rally  get  into  litigation  with  me  to  defend  your  property," 
said  Don  Mariano. 

Darrell  thought  of  his  wife,  and  her  earnest  injunctions.  He 
wished  to  keep  his  promise  to  her.  He  said  : 

"  If  the  courts  say  that  this  land  rightfully  belongs  to  you,  I 
shall  pay  you  for  your  land  or  vacate." 

"  But,  Mr  Darrell,  you  will  get  me  into  litigation  with  you, 
and  I  wish  to  avoid  that" 

"  No,  I  shall  not  get  you  into  any  law  suit  with  me.  I  shall 
buy  your  land  or  leave." 

"Very  well,  Mr.  Darrell,  I  shall  rely  on  your  word.  I  shall 
remember  what  you  say ;  please  do  the  same." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  forgetting  what  I  say." 

Don  Mariano  and  his  two  sons  lifted  their  hats,  bowed 
slightly,  turned  their  horses'  heads  and  moved  off. 

Darrell  returned  their  bow,  muttering  to  himself,  "They  take 
off  their  hats  and  bow  like  gentlemen,  anyway." 

While  he  was  talking  with  Don  Mariano,  Mathews,  Hughes, 
Gasbang,  Miller  and  Pittikin  had  come.  They  heard  all  that  was 
said  and  looked  disappointed.  They  evidently  had  counted 
upon  Darrell  to  help  them  to  fight  the  rightful  owner. 

"  Did  I  understand  you  to  say  to  the  Don  that  you  will  not 
maintain  your  claim,  if  the  attorney  general  dismisses  our  ap 
peal?"  asked  Gasbang. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  understood,  or  what  you  did  not 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  37 

understand.  What  I  said  was  that  if  the  Don's  title  is  de 
cided  to  be  right  and  legal,  I  shall  not  contest  it.  Why  should 
I,  if  the  land  is  his  ?  I  came  here  to  take  up  government  land, 
believing  his  title  was  rejected.  He  says  it  is  not." 

"He  lies;  it  was  rejected,"  Gasbang  said. 

"  That  is  why  we  appealed,"  Mathews  added. 

"  Very  well ;  we  will  wait.  For  my  part,  I  think  that  if 
his  title  was  rejected  he  will  find  it  hard  to  get  it  back,"  said 
Darrell. 

The  fact  of  his  going  on  with  his  building  ought  to  have 
been  sufficient  proof  to  the  other  settlers  that  he  had  cast  his 
lot  with  them.  But  it  was  not.  They  feared  that  at  any  time 
he  might  pay  the  Don  for  his  land,  and  cease  to  be  one  of  them; 
cease  to  be  a  "squatter"  These  doubts,  these  fears,  were  the 
perennial  theme  of  endless  discussion  with  the  settlers  of  Ala- 
mar. 

With  date  of  February  14,  1872,  the  Honorable  Legislature 
of  California  passed  a  law  "  To  protect  agriculture,  and  to  prevent 
the  trespassing  of  animals  upon  private  property  in  the  Comity 
of  Los  Angeles,  and  the  County  of  San  Diego,  and  parts  of 
Monterey  County" 

In  the  very  first  section  it  recited,  that  "every  owner  or 
occupant  of  land,  whether  it  is  enclosed  or  not"  could  take  up 
cattle  found  in  said  land,  etc.,  etc.  It  was  not  stated  to  be 
necessary  that  the  occupant  should  have  a  good  title.  All  that 
was  required  seemed  to  be  that  he  should  claim  to  be  an  oc 
cupant  of  land,  no  matter  who  was  the  owner. 

Before  this  law  came  out,  Don  Mariano  had  already  had  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  with  the  squatters,  who  kept  killing  his 
cattle  by  the  hundred  head  at  times.  After  this  law  passed, 
he  had  the  additional  annoyance  of  having  to  pay  money  for 
the  release  of  cattle  taken  up  by  occupants  who  would  not 
fence  their  ten-acre  crops.  Thus,  the  alternative  was,  that  if 
cattle  were  not  taken  up,  he  was  sure  to  find  them  shot  dead 
by  some  invisible  hand.  He  had  hoped  that  the  Legislature 
would  pass  a  law  saying  that  "  unless  occupants  of  land  put  fences 


38  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

around  their  fields,  they  would  not  be  authorized  to  take  up 
cattle."  But,  instead  of  this,  the  above-mentioned  law  was 
enacted. 

This  was,  of  course,  ruinous  to  Don  Mariano,  as  well  as  to 
all  owners  of  cattle  ranchos  where  settlers  had  seen  fit  to  locate 
homesteads.  Now  any  one  man,  by  planting  one  acre  of  grain 
to  attract  cattle  to  it,  could  make  useless  thousands  of  acres 
around  it  of  excellent  grazing,  because  it  became  necessary  to 
drive  cattle  away  from  the  vicinity  of  these  unfenced  fields. 

In  view  of  all  this,  and  seeing  that  the  new  law  would  con 
firm  the  right  to  plant  fields  without  fencing,  and  take  up  cat 
tle,  horses  or  any  other  animals  found  therein,  Don  Mariano 
thought  he  would  call  together  all  the  settlers  in  his  rancho, 
and  make  some  proposition  to  them  that  would  be  fair  to 
everybody,  and  by  which  he  would  save  his  cattle  from  get 
ting  killed  or  captured  (when  he  must  ransom  them)  all  the 
time. 

He  told  his  idea  to  Mr.  Mechlin,  who  thought  it  was  a  good 
plan,  and  volunteered  to  see  some  of  the  settlers  with  whom 
he  was  acquainted,  thinking  that  these  could  see  others,  and 
in  this  manner  a  meeting  be  arranged.  He  started  in  the 
morning  on  his  errand,  and  in  the  evening  Don  Mariano  called 
to  learn  the  result. 

"  These  men  are  meaner  and  lower  than  I  had  supposed," 
said  Mr.  Mechlin,  whose  very  fine  nervous  organization  ill-fitted 
him  for  the  rough  contact  of  Gasbangs.  "Would  you  believe 
it,  they  suspected  I  wanted  to  lay  a  trap  in  which  the  innocent 
lambs  would  fall,  and  you — the  wolf — catch  them.  If  it  had 
not  been  that  I  saw  Darrell,  I  would  have  been  utterly  dis 
couraged.  And  I  suspect  he  would  not  have  been  half  so 
polite  and  considerate  but  for  the  influence  of  his  son,  who  has 
just  arrived." 

"  I  heard  he  had.     You  saw  him  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  a  very  gentlemanly,  handsome  young  fellow  he 
is.  He  made  his  father  promise  to  go  with  him  to  see  the  set 
tlers  in  person,  and  arrange  for  you  to  meet  them ;  he  will  re 
port  to  me  in  the  evening  the  result  of  their  embassy." 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  39 

Clarence  kept  his  word  to  Mr.  Mechlin,  and  immediately 
after  breakfast  he  had  his  buggy  and  horses  (a  fine  turnout  he 
had  brought  from  San  Francisco)  at  the  door.  Darrell  smiled, 
and  good-naturedly  took  his  seat  beside  his  son,  saying  it  would 
be  best  to  begin  by  seeing  Gasbang  and  Mathews.  Fortu 
nately  they  met  these  men,  who  were  driving  to  see  him,  to 
ask  his  opinion  about  agreeing  to  meet  Don  Mariano.  Darrell 
promptly  told  them  that  he  thought  no  one  of  the  settlers  should 
refuse  a  request  so  easy  to  grant. 

"  But  don't  you  think  there  is  a  trap  in  it  ?'"  Mathews 
asked. 

"  None  whatever.     We  are  not  children,"  Darrell  replied. 

"But  suppose  he  makes  us  promise  something?"  Mathews 
argued. 

"  How  can  he  coerce  any  one  against  his  will,"  said  Darrell. 

"  No  one  will  be  obliged  to  accede  unwillingly,"  said  Clar 
ence.  "  Let  us  at  least  be  courteous." 

"  Certainly.  Have  you  any  idea  what  it  is  that  he  wants  to 
say  ?  "  asked  Gasbang. 

"He  wants  to  make  some  proposition  to  the  settlers,  by 
which  he  hopes  that  the  interests  of  all  concerned  will  be  sub 
served,"  said  Clarence. 

"Visionary!"  exclaimed  Gasbang,  tapping  his  forehead  with 
his  forefinger;  "not  practical." 

"But  his  intentions  are  perfectly  kind  and  fair,"  Clarence 
said. 

"That  it  to  say,  Mr.  Mechlin  thinks  they  are." 

"  Why  shouldn't  they  be?  He  certainly  can't  coerce  any 
body.  Here  we  are  on  what  he  believes  to  be  his  land,  and 
we  don't  think  it  is.  Well,  what  of  that?" 

"  He  certainly  won't  propose  to  fight  us  single-handed.  We 
are  the  majority,"  said  Darrell. 

"All  right.  We'll  see  Hager  and  Miller,  and  the  other 
fellows  in  that  valley.  But  we  think  Mr.  Clarence  will  do 
better  with  Hancock,  Pittikin  and  Hughes.  The  female  ele 
ment  is  strong  there,  but  it  will  weaken  in  his  hands,  and  in 


40  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

that  malleable  condition,  he  can  shape  it  to  suit  himself,  with 
one  look  out  of  his  eyes  at  the  whole  troop  of  girls,"  said 
Gasbahg. 

"Goodness!  You  don't  suppose  I  would  go  to  play  the 
sweet  fellow  to  those  ugly  old  girls,  and  make  a  fool  of  my 
self,"  said  Clarence,  with  so  genuine  a  look  of  thorough  dis 
gust,  that  it  made  John  Gasbang  indulge  in  one  of  his  loudest 
fits  of  hilarity.  "  Don't  be  alarmed,  my  young  friend.  There 
is  no  harm  for  you  there.  I  could  turn  you  loose  among  those 
girls  and  you  would  be  as  safe  as  Daniel  among  '  lions '  or  in 
'  fiery  furnace.'  You  would  not  get  a  single  scratch,  or  feel  any 
flames  at  all,"  said  he. 

"What  a  low,  vulgar  fellow  this  is,  even  too  low  for  a 
squatter,"  said  Clarence,  driving  off. 

"Phew!"  ejaculated  the  elder  Darrell,  "you  speak  like  a 
Don.  Your  idea  of  a  squatter  is  not  flattering." 

"It  is  flattering  thus  far,  that  I  think  Gasbang  is  too  low 
for  the  settler,  who  means  no  wrong-doing, — the  average  squat 
ter.  As  for  Mathews,  I  am  sure  he  is  a  cut-throat  by  in 
stinct." 

"That  maybe;  but  I  think  their  idea  of  your  seeing  Pittikin 
and  Hughes  is  good.  You  can  have  more  effect  on  them  than 
Gasbang  or  Mathews." 

"  O,  I  am  willing  to  go  to  speak  to  the  old  men,  but  why 
should  I  see  the  girls?" 

"You  manage  that  part  to  suit  yourself.  And  now  stop. 
I'll  drop  here ;  you  needn't  go  out  of  your  way.  I'll  walk 
home.  I  want  to  see  this  piece  of  land  near  by.  It  has  not 
been  located.  I  might  put  a  claim  there  for  Everett  and  an 
other  for  Webster." 

Clarence  sighed,  and  silently  drove  on.  He  had  passed  by 
the  Pittikin  and  Hughes  farms  the  day  he  arrived,  as  his  father 
had  taken  him  to  see  how  nicely  the  settlers  were  doing  in 
Southern  California;  all  expecting  their  prosperity  to  increase 
by  the  building  of  the  railroad.  Clarence  saw  the  two  houses 
and  began  to  feel  like  a  mariner  of  old  between  Scylla  and 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  41 

Charybdis.  There  might  be  a  troop  of  ugly  old  girls  in  each 
house.  If  he  could  only  see  some  men  out  in  the  fields.  But 
the  fields  looked  deserted.  Where  could  the  men  be — this 
being  no  Sunday  nor  Fourth  of  July,  that  they  should  leave  off 
work?  On  looking  about  for  some  human  being  to  guide  him, 
he  saw  in  the  distance,  under  a  clump  of  dark  trees,  several 
wagons,  and  horses  unhitched,  standing  harnessed  near  them. 

He  was  about  to  turn  to  the  left,  to  take  the  road  between 
two  fields,  when  he  heard  voices,  shouting  loudly.  He  sup 
posed  they  were  calling  some  one.  The  shouts  were  followed 
by  a  man  on  horseback  galloping  towards  him.  Clarence 
stopped  and  waited.  The  rider  was  no  other  than  Mr.  Pitti- 
kin,  who  came  in  person  to  invite  him  to  join  their  picnic,  in 
honor  of  his  daughter's  wedding.  The  opportunity  to  see 
the  men  together  would  be  excellent,  but  the  girls  would  be 
there,  too,  thought  Clarence,  not  over  pleased. 

"  Please  excuse  rue,  I  am  not  dressed  to  appear  in  company. 
I  came  to  see  you  on  business,"  said  he. 

"The  girls  said  I  must  bring  you."  Clarence  felt  a  qualm. 
"And  even  if  I  have  to  fight  you  I  must  obey;  obey  the  ladies, 
you  know.  There  ain't  many  there.  Only  our  two  families — 
Hughes  and  mine,  and  neighbor  Hancock's  and  a  few  friends. 
Indeed,  we  will  feel  slighted  if  you  don't  join  us.  We  will  feel 
you  think  us  too  humble  a  class  for  you  to  associate  with." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind.  If  I  thought  so,  I  would  not  hesi 
tate  to  present  myself  before  the  ladies  in  this  dress." 

"  Come  along,  anyhow.  We'll  make  all  the  allowance  you 
want.  But  you  see,  this  is  my  daughter  Fanny's  birthday  and 
her  wedding  day.  She  was  married  to  Romeo  Hancock  this 
morning.  So  we  wanted  a  room  as  big  as  all  out  doors  to  cel 
ebrate  the  occasion.  We  thought  the  best  thing  would  be  to 
have  a  picnic  under  those  beautiful  trees.  Come,  please.  If  you 
ain't  with  us,  you  are  against  us." 

"  I'll  go  home  and  put  on  other  dress  and  come  back  immedi 
ately,"  said  Clarence. 

Pittikin  laughed.     "Just  what  Fanny  said.    I  tell  you  she  is 


42  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

an  awfully  smart  girl.  She  said,  *  He'll  tell  you  he  is  going 
home  to  change  his  clothes,  but  don't  you  let  him,  because 
he'll  only  give  us  the  slip.'  So  you  see,  I  can't  let  you  go. 
Besides,  they  are  setting  the  table, — I  mean  to  say,  spreading 
the  eatables, — so  you  have  no  time  to  go  home  now." 

'•But,  look  here,  Mr.  Pittikin,  what  is  to  become  of  my 
mission  ?  I  came  to  see  you  and  Mr.  Hughes  on  business, 
and  not  on  a  picnic." 

"  Can't  the  business  wait  till  to  morrow?" 
"  Not  very  well,  as  I  promised  Mr.  Mechlin." 
"  Oh !  I  know;  Hughes  told  me,"  interrupted  Pittikin.   "The 
Don  wants  to  make  speeches  to  the  settlers  to  fool  us  into  a — 
into — some  terms  of  his,  so  that  we'll  kick  ourselves  out  of  our 
farms." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind.  He  is  not  going  to  make  any  foolish 
propositions,  but  even  if  he  were,  you  can  lose  nothing  by 
being  polite  and  listening  to  him." 

"  I  don't  know  but  what  you  are  right.  I  like  always  to  be 
polite ;  and  as  for  Hughes,  he  is  the  politest  man  going,  and 
no  mistake.  He  never  speaks  loud,  and  he  always  listens  to 
you.  I  think  it  will  be  the  best  thing,  perhaps,  to  see  Hughes, 
now.  Then  there  is  neighbor  Hancock,  and  neighbor  Miller 
and  Jackson,  and  the  boys.  Come  along,  we'll  collar  them  in 
a  bunch." 

"Then,  I  can  count  upon  your  help?" 
"  Certainly  you  can ;  for  when  it  is  a  question  of  politeness, 
I  won't  be  left  behind,  and  if  I  give  you  my  word,  you  can  bet 
on  me." 

Clarence  was  received  with  loud  demonstrations  of  pleasure. 
"  Here  he  is,"  said  Pittikin,  on  arriving  at  the  picnic  ground ; 
"  I  got  him ;  but  as  he  has  some  business  to  talk  to  us  about,  I 
promised  him  we  would  attend  to  that  too,  and  mix  business 
with  pleasure,  as  it  were.  So,  you  talk  to  them  girls,  Mr. 
Darrell,  while  we  old  men  see  what  can  be  done  and  how,  and 
we'll  let  you  know." 

Clarence  was  presented  by  Mr.  Pittikin  to  Mrs.  Pittikin,  and 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  43 

this  lady  presented  him  to  the  company,  saying  that  he  must 
make  himself  at  home,  which  Clarence  did  not  see  well  how  he 
could  do. 

But  the  young  ladies  could  not  boast  of  having  often  the 
good  fortune  to  entertain  a  young  gentleman  as  elegant,  hand 
some  and  rich  as  Clarence,  and  they  made  good  use  of  their 
golden  opportunity.  Sweet  glances  and  complimentary  ex 
pressions  of  pleasure,  because  the  Darrell  family  were  to  be 
their  neighbors,  showered  upon  him,  until  he  was  ready  to 
laugh  outright.  But  he  was  too  kind  to  have  done  anything 
so  discourteous,  and  took  it  all  in  good  part,  thinking  it  was 
all  meant  in  kindness. 

"Come,  let  us  show  to  Mr.  Darrell  our  ice  fountain;  it  is,  I 
think,  a  great  natural  curiosity,"  said  Mrs.  Romeo  Hancock, 
the  heroine  of  the  day,  being  the  lady  in  whose  honor  the  hy 
meneal  festivities  took  place.  "  Come  girls  and  boys,"  said 
she,  and  accompanied  by  Clarence,  and  followed  by  eight  or 
ten  others,  she  guided  them  to  a  little  cave  under  a  large  oak, 
from  which  a  muffled  sound  of  tiny  bells  that  seemed  to  tinkle 
and  sigh  and  whisper,  came  forth.  It  seemed  to  Clarence  as  if 
the  little  fountain  was  in  sympathy  with  the  dispossessed  owners, 
but  did  not  dare  to  raise  its  timid  voice  in  behalf  of  the  van 
quished,  who  no  longer  had  rights  in  their  patrimony,  and 
must  henceforth  wander  off  disinherited,  despoiled,  forgotten. 

"  This  is  a  lovely  place,"  said  Clarence. 

"Yes,  and  Mathews  wanted  to  kill  me  for  it,"  said  Romeo. 

"  Why  so?"  asked  Clarence. 

"  Because  he  had  just  sold  his  place  to  Mr.  Mechlin,  intend 
ing  to  locate  here.  So  when  he  went  to  town  to  sign  his  con 
veyance,  I  put  some  boards  in  a  wagon  and  came  here,  and  in 
two  hours  my  father  and  myself  had  put  up  my  cabin.  Then 
we  put  up  this  fence  around  one  acre,  and  by  nightfall  we  had 
placed  my  boundary  stakes.  That  night  I  brought  my  blankets 
and  my  rifle,  to  sleep  in  my  cabin.  Mother  sent  father  to  keep 
me  company,  and  we  slept  soundly,  in  splendid  style.  I  wasn't 
afraid  of  Mathews.  Next  morning,  at  daybreak,  we  heard  the 


44  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

rumbling  of  a  wagon,  and  soon  after  we  spied  old  Mathews  sit 
ting  on  the  top  of  his  boards.  He  came  smack  against  my  fence. 

"What  the  devil  is  this?"  said  he,  and  began  to  swear  a 
perfect  blue  streak.  Then  he  took  a  hammer  from  his  wagon, 
and  began  hammering. 

I  jumped  up,  took  my  rifle  and  hallooed  to  him,  as  if  I 
didn't  know  him,  "Who  is  there,  hammering  my  fence?" 

"  Your  fence  ?  "  said  he ;  "  your  fence  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,  mine.     I  located  here  yesterday." 

"  You  !  you  !  Get  a  beard  first,"  said  he,  and  with  another 
streak  of  oaths,  began  hammering  again. 

I  came  up  nearer,  holding  my  rifle  in  good  position.  I  said, 
"  Look  here,  Mr.  Mathews,  leave  my  fence  alone,  or  you  will 
get  into  trouble."  I  leveled  my  rifle  at  him.  "Will  you  stop? 
I  give  you  just  two  minutes." 

He  stopped. 

"You  have  no  right  to  locate — you  are  a  minor,"  said  he, 
livid  with  rage. 

"You  just  inform  yourself  better,  by  asking  a  polite  ques 
tion  or  two  of  my  parents.  They  will  tell  you  that  I  am  just 
twenty-one  years  and  two  days  old,  and  I  can  prove  it  by  our 
family  Bible  and  certificate  of  baptism.  I  am  a  Christian,  I 
am,  though  you  don't  seem  to  be,  judging  by  your  cursing, — 
and  as  for  my  beard,  you  be  patient,  and  you'll  see  it,  for  it  is 
coming  as  fast  as  your  gray  hairs." 

"  Why  didn't  you  say  you  wanted  this  place?"  he  growled. 

"  What  a  question  ! "  I  answered.  "  You  ask  it  because  you 
don't  see  my  beard,  but  I  feel  it  pushing  ahead  with  all  its 
might.  I  didn't  tell  you,  because  we  ain't  exactly  bosom 
friends,  and  because  that  is  not  the  style  in  which  we  settlers 
do  business.  I  kept  dark,  hoping  that  you  would  hold  on  a 
while  longer,  trying  to  get  a  bigger  price  for  your  place  from 
Mr.  Mechlin.  I  watched  you,  and  when  you  let  Saturday 
pass  I  knew  this  sweet  little  spot  was  mine, — for  on  Saturday 
I  was  twenty-one,  and  you  couldn't  sign  your  conveyance  to 
Mr.  Mechlin  until  Monday.  To-day  is  Tuesday,  Mr.  Mathews, 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  45 

I  shall  be  twenty-one  years  and  three  days  old  at  1 1  o'clock 
A.M.  this  day,  if  I  live  five  hours  longer." 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word.  You  ain't  twenty-one.  'Tis  a 
lie  !" 

"  No,  it  ain't,"  my  father  said,  coming  from  the  cabin. 

"Then  he  is  a  jumper.     He's  jumped  my  claim." 

"  No,  he  ain't.  Look  here,  Mathews,"  said  father,  dragging 
his  rifle  along  as  if  it  was  a  dead  cat,  "you  know  well  it  is 
yourself  who  is  lying  when  you  say  that.  You  had  no  right  to 
this  claim  while  you  held  the  other." 

"  But  I  put  up  my  notice  that  I  was  going  to  locate  here." 

"  Now,  don't  be  silly,"  said  father,  leaning  on  his  rifle.  "  It 
is  painful  to  my  feelings  to  hear  a  grey-headed  man  talk  like  a 
child.  You  might  have  put  twenty  notices — what  of  that?  The 
law  don't  allow  any  circus  performances  like  that,  and  if  it  did, 
you  ain't  a  good  enough  performer  to  ride  two  horses  at  once." 

"  I  think  it  is  a  mean  performance  on  your  part,  too,  coining 
here  to  steal  a  march  on  me." 

"A  mean  performance,  you  say  ?  Do  you  remember  how  I 
had  my  notices  up  and  my  stakes  on  the  ground,  six  years 
ago,  and  when  I  went  to  town  to  bring  my  lumber,  you 
jumped  my  claim  ?  My  boy  has  just  barely  returned  the  com 
pliment." 

"I'll  be  even  with  you  yet,"  said  he,  climbing  into  his 
wagon,  and  beginning  to  whip  his  horses,  and  swear  at  us 
worse  than  ever. 

"The  same  to  you;  the  same  to  you,"  father  would  say,  as 
if  answering  prayers,  and  then  we  both  laughed  heartily. 

"  That  is  not  the  worst,  but  that  you  jumped  the  claim  of 
his  affections,"  said  Tom,  whereupon  all  laughed,  and  Fanny 
bashfully  hung  down  her  head. 

Voices  calling  them  to  dinner  were  now  heard,  and  they  re 
turned  to  the  picnic  grounds. 

No  banquet  of  the  Iliad  warriors  surpassed  this,  showing 
that  the  settlers  of  Alamar  had  found  the  Don's  land  and  the 
laws  of  Congress  very  good. 


46  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

The  elder  Mrs.  Hancock  and  Mrs.  Pittikin  were  proud 
of  having  given  a  banquet  which  no  other  settler  would  dare 
surpass  in  Alamar. 

When  the  dessert  was  being  served,  Clarence  said,  "We 
must  drink  to  the  bride  and  groom."  All  agreed  that  it  should 
be  done. 

He  arose  and  made  a  neat  little  speech,  which  was  so 
"  sweetly  pretty?  Mr.  P.  said,  that  it  brought  tears  to  the  eyes 
of  Mrs.  Pittikin  and  Mrs.  Hancock,  the  elder. 

This  put  Clarence's  popularity  beyond  doubt. 

"Fill  your  glasses,  for  I  have  something  to  say  to  Mr. 
Clarence  Darrell,  but  we  must  first  drink  his  health,"  said  Mr. 
Pittikin. 

"  Here  is  to  our  friends,  the  Darrell  family,  but  more  par 
ticularly  to  Mr.  Clarence.  We  respect  him,  we  like  him,  we 
are  proud  of  him;" — all  drank — "and  I  nowtake  the  occasion  to 
say  to  Mr.  Darrell,  in  the  presence  of  our  friends  here,  that  I 
fulfilled  my  promise  to  him,  and  have  spoken  to  our  friends 
here,  the  heads  of  families,  and  they  will  speak  to  those  who 
are  not  present,  and  we  will  meet  to  hear  what  the  Don  has  to 
say." 

"  But  we  don't  promise  to  accept  any  proposition,  if  it  don't 
suit  each  one,  no  matter  what  anybody  votes,"  said  old  Hughes. 

"That  is  understood;  we  want  to  be  polite,  that's  all,"  ex 
plained  Mr.  Pittikin. 

"  And  that  is  all  I  have  requested,"  Clarence  said.  "  I  do 
not  ask  any  one  to  accept  any  proposition  against  his  will." 

"  That  is  fair  enough,"  said  old  Hancock. 

"  And  little  enough,  considering  we  are  in  possession  of  land 
that  the  Don  believes  to  be  his  own,"  said  Romeo. 

"  But  it  ain't,"  said  old  Hager. 

"  It  has  been  for  more  than  fifty  years,"  Romeo  asserted. 

"  But  he  lost  it  by  not  complying  with  the  law,"  said  Hughes. 

"  Yes,  if  he  had  not  neglected  his  rights,  his  title  would  not 
have  been  rejected;  he  went  to  sleep  for  eight  years,  and  his 
right  was  outlawed,"  said  Miller, 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  47 

"  That  was  the  fault  of  his  lawyers,  perhaps,"  Clarence  said. 

"  Of  course  it  was,  but  he  should  have  watched  his  lawyers. 
The  trouble  is,  that  you  can't  teach  'an  old  dog  new  tricks.' 
Those  old  Spaniards  never  will  be  business  men,"  said  Pittikin, 
sententiously. 

It  was  finally  agreed  that  Clarence  would  call  on  Mr. 
Mechlin  that  evening,  to  notify  him  that  the  settlers  would 
meet  the  Don  on  Monday  afternoon  at  2  o'clock  on  the  porch 
of  Gasbang's  house. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DON  IN  HIS  BROAD  ACRES. 

"  The  one  great  principle  of  English  law," — Charles  Dickens 
says,  "is  to  make  business  for  itself.  There  is  no  other  prin 
ciple  distinctly,  certainly  and  consistently  maintained  through 
all  its  narrow  turnings.  Viewed  by  this  light,  it  becomes  a  co 
herent  scheme,  and  not  the  monstrous  maze  the  laity  are  apt  to 
think  it.  Let  them  but  once  clearly  perceive  that  its  grand 
principle  is  to  make  business  for  itself  at  their  expense,  and 
surely  they  will  cease  to  grumble." 

The  one  great  principle  of  American  law  is  very  much  the 
same;  our  law-givers  keep  giving  us  laws  and  then  enacting 
others  to  explain  them.  The  lawyers  find  plenty  of  occupation, 
but  what  becomes  of  the  laity  ? 

"No.  189.  An  Act  to  ascertain  and  settle  the  private  land 
claims  in  the  State  of  California"  says  the  book. 

And  by  a  sad  subversion  of  purposes,  all  the  private  land 
titles  became  unsettled.  It  ought  to  have  been  said,  "  An  Act 
to  unsettle  land  titles,  and  to  upset  the  rights  of  the  Spanish 
population  of  the  State  of  California." 

It  thus  became  not  only  necessary  for  the  Spanish  people  to 
present  their  titles  for  revision,  and  litigate  to  maintain  them 
(in  case  of  any  one  contesting  their  validity,  should  the  least  ir 
regularity  be  discovered,  and  others  covet  their  possession),  but 
to  maintain  them  against  the  government  before  several  tri 
bunals;  for  the  government,  besides  making  its  own  laws, 
appeals  to  itself  'as  against  the  land-owners,  after  their  titles  might 
have  been  approved.  But  this  benign  Act  says  (in  "Sec.  n"), 
"  That  the  Commissioners,  the  District  and  Supreme  Courts, 
in  deciding  on  the  validity  of  any  claim,  shall  be  governed  by 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  49 

the  treaty  of  Guadalupe  Hidalgo;  the  law  of  nations;  the 
laws,  usages,  and  customs  of  the  government  from  which  the 
claim  is  derived  ;  the  principles  of  equity,  and  the  decisions  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  etc.,  etc." 

Thus  the  government  washes  its  hands  clean,  liberally  pro 
viding  plenty  of  tribunals,  plenty  of  crooked  turnings  through 
which  to  scourge  the  wretched  land-owners. 

Don  Mariano  had  been  for  some  years  under  the  lash  of  the 
maternal  government,  whom  he  had  found  a  cruel  stepmother, 
indeed. 

As  it  was  arranged  with  Clarence,  the  meeting  would  take 
place  that  day  on  the  broad  piazza  of  John  Gasbang's  house, 
this  being  the  most  central  point  in  the  rancho. 

The  heads  of  families  all  came — the  male  heads,  be  it  under 
stood — as  the  squatters  did  not  make  any  pretence  to  regard 
female  opinion,  with  any  more  respect  than  other  men. 

All  the  benches  and  chairs  that  the  house  contained,  with  the 
exception  of  Mrs.  Gasbang's  sewing  rocker,  had  been  brought 
to  the  porch,  which  was  quite  roomy  and  airy. 

At  ten  minutes  before  two,  all  the  settlers  were  there,  that  is 
to  say,  all  the  old  men,  with  their  elder  sons. 

Clarence,  Romeo,  Tom  and  Jack,  sat  together  in  a  corner, 
conversing  in  low  tones,  while  Gasbang  was  entertaining  his 
guests  with  some  broad  anecdotes,  which  brought  forth  peals 
of  laughter. 

At  five  minutes  to  two,  Senor  Alamar,  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Mechlin,  arrived  in  a  buggy;  his  two  sons  followed  on  horse 
back. 

Clarence  had  time  to  look  at  them  leisurely,  while  they  dis 
mounted,  and  tied  their  horses  to  a  hitching  post. 

"  They  are  gentlemen,  no  doubt,"  observed  Clarence. 

"  You  bet  they  are,"  Romeo  coincided.  Evidently  he  ad 
mired  and  liked  them. 

"  How  much  the  boys  look  like  the  old  man,"  Tom  said. 

"  They  look  like  Englishmen,"  was  Clarence's  next  observa 
tion. 


50  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Yes,  particularly  Victoriano;  he  is  so  light  he  looks  more 
like  a  German,  I  think,"  said  Romeo. 

"I  think  Gabriel  is  very  handsome,"  Tom  said,  "only  of  late 
he  seems  always  so  sad  or  thoughtful." 

"  That  won't  do  for  a  man  who  is  to  marry  soon,"  said  Romeo. 
"  I  think  he  has  always  been  rather  reserved.  He  has  only  a 
cold  salutation  to  give,  while  Victoriano  will  be  laughing  and 
talking  to  everybody.  But,  perhaps,  you  are  right,  and  he  is 
changed.  I  think  he  is  less  reconciled  than  the  others,  to  have 
us,  settlers,  helping  ourselves  to  what  they  consider  their  land. 
He  certainly  was  far  more  talkative  four  or  five  years  ago.  I  used 
to  work  with  them  in  ploughing  and  harvesting  time,  and  both 
boys,  and  the  Don,  were  always  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  can't 
help  liking  them." 

"  The  ladies,  though,  ain't  so  affable.  They  are  very  proud," 
said  Tom;  "they  walk  like  queens." 

"  They  didn't  seem  proud  to  me,  but  I  never  spoke  to  them," 
said  Romeo. 

Gasbang  went  forward  to  meet  his  guests,  and  all  came  into 
the  porch. 

"  Good  afternoon,  gentlemen,"  said  Don  Mariano  to  the  set 
tlers,  lifting  his  hat  and  bowing.  His  sons  and  Mr.  Mechlin 
did  the  same.  Clarence  arose,  and  so  did  the  other  young  men 
with  him,  returning  their  salutation.  The  elder  Darrell,  Pit- 
tikin  and  Hughes  followed  this  example;  the  other  settlers 
nodded  only,  and  remained  sitting  with  their  hats  on,  looking 
with  affected  indifference  at  the  trees  beyond. 

"  I  thank  you  for  your  courtesy  in  complying  with  my  re 
quest  to  have  this  meeting,"  he  said.  Some  nodded,  others 
grinned  and  winked,  others  smiled  silently. 

"Take  this  chair,  Sefior,  and  you,  Mr.  Mechlin,  take  this 
one.  They  are  the  best  in  my  establishment,"  said  Gasbang. 
"The  young  gentlemen  will  find  seats  somewhere  on  the 
benches." 

Clarence  came  forward  and  offered  three  chairs.  Mr. 
Mechlin  took  his  arm  and  presented  him  to  the  Alamars. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  51 

"I  take  pleasure  in  making  your  acquaintance,  and  I  hope 
to  have  the  opportunity  to  thank  you  for  your  kind  co-opera 
tion  more  appropriately  afterward,"  said  Don  Mariano.  His 
sons  shook  hands  with  Clarence  cordially,  and  accepted  the 
proffered  chairs. 

Don  Mariano  excused  himself  for  not  speaking  English  more 
fluently. 

"If  you  don't  understand  me  I  will  repeat  my  words  until  I 
make  my  meaning  clear,  but  I  hope  you  will  ask  me  to  repeat 
them;  or,  perhaps,  some  one  of  these  young  gentlemen  will  do 
me  the  kindness  to  be  my  interpreter,"  said  he. 

"Romeo  talks  Spanish;  he  can  interpret  for  you,"  said  Vic- 
toriano. 

"You  talk  English  better,"  Romeo  proudly  replied,  think 
ing  he  could  tell  his  wife  that  the  Don  had  asked  him  to  be  his 
interpreter. 

"Perhaps  Mr.  Clarence  Darrell  would  do  me  the  favor,"  said 
Don  Mariano. 

"  You  speak  very  good  English,  senor.  We  understand  you 
perfectly.  You  do  not  require  an  interpreter,"  Clarence  said. 

"That  is  so;  you  speak  very  well,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin. 

Gasbang  and  Pittikin  added:  "Certainly,  we  understand  him 
very  well." 

"Of  course  we  do,"  said  Darrell  and  others. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  said  the  Don,  smiling,  and  I  will  try  to 
be  brief,  and  not  detain  you  long." 

"We  have  all  the  afternoon,"  said  Hughes. 

"That's  so,  we  ain't  in  a  hurry,"  said  several. 

"Only  let  us  out  in  time  to  bring  the  milch  cows  home,  be 
fore  night  comes  on,"  said  old  Miller,  dryly. 

"Exactly,  we  want  to  look  after  our  cows,  too,"  said  the  Don, 
laughing. 

All  saw  the  fine  irony  of  the  rejoinder,  and  laughed  heartily. 
Miller  scratched  his  ear,  as  if  he  had  felt  the  retort  there,  know 
ing  well,  that  with  the  exception  of  Mathews  and  Gasbang,  he 
had  killed  and  "  corraled"  more  of  the  Don's  cattle  than  any- 
other  settler. 


52  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Speaking  about  cows,  brings  us  at  once  to  the  object  of 
this  meeting, "- — Don  Mariano,  still  smiling,  went  on,  saying: 
"You  know  that  I  have  lost  many,  and  that  it  is  natural  I 
should  wish  to  save  those  I  have  left.  To  do  this,  and  yet  not 
ask  that  you  give  up  your  claims,  I  have  one  or  two  propositions 
to  make  to  you.  The  reason  why  you  have  taken  up  land  here 
is  because  you  want  homes.  You  want  to  make  money.  Isn't 
that  the  reason?  Money!  money!" 

"That's  it,  exactly,"  said  many  voices,  and  all  laughed. 

"Well,  I  can  show  you  how  you  may  keep  your  homes  and 
make  more"  money  than  you  can  by  your  present  methods, 
while  at  the  same  time,  I  also  save  my  cattle.  That  little  point, 
you  know,  I  must  keep  in  view." 

All  laughed  again. 

"To  fence  your  fields,  you  have  said,  is  too  expensive,  par 
ticularly  as  the  rainy  seasons  are  too  uncertain  to  base  upon 
them  any  calculations  for  getting  crops  to  pay  for  fencing.  I 
believe  this  is  what  most  of  you  say;  is  it  not  ?" 

"We  could  have  raised  better  crops  if  your  cattle  hadn't 
damaged  them,"  said  Mathews. 

"I  beg  to  differ;  but  supposing  that  you  are  right,  do  you 
think  you  could  be  sure  of  good  crops  if  you  killed  all  my 
stock,  or  if  I  took  them  all  away  to  the  mountains  ?  No, 
most  assuredly.  The  rainy  season  would  still  be  irregular  and 
unreliable,  I  think.  Yes,  I  may  say,  I  feel  sure,  it  is  a  mis 
take  to  try  to  make  San  Diego  County  a  grain-producing 
county.  It  is  not  so,^and  I  feel  certain  it  never  will  be,  to  any 
great  extent.  This  county  is,  and  has  been,  and  will  be  al 
ways,  a  good  grazing  county — one  of  the  best  counties  for 
cattle-raising  on  this  coast,  and  the  very  best  for  fruit-raising 
on  the  face  of  the  earth.  God  intended  it  should  be.  Why, 
then,  not  devote  your  time,  your  labor  and  your  money  to  rais 
ing  vineyards,  fruits  and  cattle,  instead  of  trusting  to  the  un 
certain  rains  to  give  you  grain  crops?" 

"It  takes  a  long  time  to  get  fruit  trees  to  bearing.  What 
are  we  to  do  for  a  living  in  the  meantime?"  asked  Miller. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  53 

"Begin  raising  cattle — that  will  support  you,"  the  Don  re 
plied. 

"Where  is  the  capital  to  buy  cattle  with?"  Gasbang  asked. 

"You  don't  require  any  more  capital  than  you  already  have. 
I  can  let  each  of  you  have  a  number  of  cows  to  begin  with, 
and  give  you  four  or  five  years'  time  to  pay  me.  So  you  see, 
it  will  be  with  the  increase  of  these  cattle  you  will  pay,  for  I 
shall  charge  you  no  interest." 

"What  do  you  expect  us  to  do  in  return?  To  give  back  to 
you  our  homesteads?"  asked  Hughes. 

"No,  sir;  I  have  said,  and  repeat  again,  you  will  retain  your 
homesteads." 

"And  will  you  stop  contesting  our  claims?"  asked  Mathews. 

"I  will,  and  will  give  each  one  a  quit-claim  deed." 

"You  will  not  fight  our  claims,  but  you  don't  want  us  to  plant 
grain  on  our  land,"  said  Gasbang. 

"You  can  plant  grain,  if  you  like,  but  to  do  so  you  must 
fence  your  land;  so,  as  you  all  say,  that  fencing  is  expensive,  I 
suggest  your  fencing  orchards  and  vineyards  only,  but  not  grain 
fields — I  mean  large  fields." 

"Pshaw!  I  knew  there  was  to  be  something  behind  all  that 
display  of  generosity,"  muttered  Mathews. 

Don  Mariano  reddened  with  a  thrill  of  annoyance,  but  qui 
etly  answered : 

"You  are  too  good  business  men  to  suppose  that  I  should 
not  reserve  some  slight  advantage  for  myself,  when  I  am  will 
ing  you  should  have  many  more  yourselves.  All  I  want  to 
do  is  to  save  the  few  cattle  I  have  left  I  am  willing  to  quit 
claim  to  you  the  land  you  have  taken,  and  give  you  cattle  to 
begin  the  stock  business,  and  all  I  ask  you  in  return  is  to  put  a 
fence  around  whatever  land  you  wish  to  cultivate,  so  that  my 
cattle  cannot  go  in  there.  So  I  say,  plant  vineyards,  plant 
olives,  figs,  oranges;  makes  wines  and  oil  and  raisins;  export 
olives  and  dried  and  canned  fruits.  I  had  some  very  fine 
California  canned  fruit  sent  to  me  from  San  Francisco.  Why 
could  we  not  can  fruits  as  well,  or  better?  Our  olives  are 


54  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

splendid — the  same  our  figs,  oranges,  apricots,  and  truly  all 
semi-tropical  fruits  are  of  a  superior  quality.  When  this  fact 
becomes  generally  known,  I  feel  very  sure  that  San  Diego 
County  will  be  selected  for  fruit  and  grape-growing.  In  two 
years  grape  vines  begin  to  bear;  the  same  with  figs,  peaches 
and  other  fruits.  At  three  years  old  they  bear  quite  well,  and 
all  without  irrigation.  So  you  would  not  have  to  wait  so  very 
long  to  begin  getting  a  return  from  your  labor  and  capital. 
Moreover,  an  orchard  of  forty  acres  or  vineyard  of  twenty  will 
pay  better  after  three  years'  growth  than  one  hundred  and 
sixty  acres  of  wheat  or  barley  in  good  seasons,  and  more  than 
three  hundred  acres  of  any  grain  in  moderately  good  sea 
sons,  or  one  thousand  acres  in  bad  seasons.  You  can 
easily  fence  twenty  or  forty  or  sixty  acres  for  a  vineyard  or 
orchard,  but  not  so  easily  fence  a  field  of  one  hundred  and 
sixty,  and  the  grain  crop  would  be  uncertain,  depending  on  the 
rains,  but  not  so  the  trees,  for  you  can  irrigate  them,  and  after 
the  trees  are  rooted  that  is  not  required." 

"Where  is  the  water  to  irrigate?"  asked  Miller. 

"The  water  is  in  the  sea  now,  for  there  we  let  it  go  every 
year;  but  if  we  were  sensible,  judicious  men,  we  would  not  let 
it  go  to  waste — we  would  save  it.  This  rancho  has  many  deep 
ravines  which  bring  water  from  hills  and  sierras.  These  ra 
vines  all  open  into  the  valleys,  and  run  like  so  many  little 
rivers  in  the  rainy  season.  By  converting  these  ravines  into 
reservoirs  we  could  have  more  water  than  would  be  needed  for 
irrigating  the  fruit  trees  on  the  foothills.  In  the  low  valleys  no 
irrigation  would  be  needed.  If  we  all  join  forces  to  put  up 
dams  across  the  most  convenient  of  these  ravines,  we  will  have 
splendid  reservoirs.  I  will  defray  half  the  expense  if  you  will 
get  together  and  stand  the  other  half.  Believe  me,  it  will  be  a 
great  God-send  to  have  a  thriving,  fruit-growing  business  in  our 
county.  To  have  the  cultivated  land  well  fenced,  and  the  re 
mainder  left  out  for  grazing.  Then  there  would  not  be  so 
many  thousands  upon  thousands  of  useless  acres  as  now  have 
to  be.  For  every  ten  acres  of  cultivated  land  (not  fenced) 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  55 

there  are  ten  thousand,  yes,  twenty  thousand,  entirely  idle, 
useless.  Why?  Because  those  ten  acres  of  growing  grain 
must  be  protected,  and  the  cattle  which  don't  know  the 
1  no  fence'  law,  follow  their  inclination  to  go  and  eat  the  green 
grass.  Then  they  are  ''corralled'  or  killed.  Is  it  not  a  pity  to 
kill  the  poor  dumb  brutes,  because  we  can't  make  them  under 
stand  the  law,  and  see  the  wisdom  of  our  Sacramento  legislators 
who  enacted  it?  .And  is  it  not  a  pity  to  impoverish  our  county 
by  making -the  bulk  of  its  land  useless?  The  foolishness  of 
letting  all  of  the  rainfall  go  to  waste,  is  an  old  time  folly  with  us. 
Still,  in  old  times,  we  had,  at  least,  the  good  excuse  that  we 
raised  all  the  fruits  we  needed  for  our  use,  and  there  was  no 
market  for  any  more.  But  we  were  not  then,  as  now,  guilty  of 
the  folly  of  making  the  land  useless.  We  raised  cattle  and 
sold  hides  and  tallow  every  year,  and  made  money.  When 
gold  was  discovered,  we  drove  our  stock  north,  got  a  good  price 
for  it,  and  made  money.  But  now  no  money  will  be  made  by 
anybody  out  of  cattle,  if  they  are  to  be  destroyed,  and  no 
money  made  out  of  land,  for  the  grazing  will  be  useless,  when 
there  will  be  no  stock  left  to  eat  it.  Thus,  the  county  will 
have  no  cattle,  and  the  crops  be  always  uncertain.  Believe 
me,  in  years  to  come,  you  will  see  that  the  county  was 
impoverished  by  the  '  no  fence  law,'  unless  we  try  to  save  our 
county,  in  spite  of  foolish  legislation.  If  our  wise  legislators 
could  enact  a  law  obliging  rain  to  come,  so  that  we  could  have 
better  chances  to  raise  grain,  then  there  would  be  some  show  of 
excuse  for  the  ' ''no  fence  law]  perhaps.  I  say  PERHAPS,  because, 
in  my  humble  opinion,  we  ought  to  prefer  cattle  raising  and 
fruit  growing  for  our  county.  We  should  make  these  our  spe 
cialty." 

"  I  think  it  would  be  much  more  foolish  to  trust  to  a  few 
cows  to  make  out  a  living  while  trees  grow,"  said  Miller,  "than 
to  the  seasons  to  give  us  grain  crops." 

"  No,  sir;  because  cattle  are  sure  to  increase,  if  they  are  not 
killed,  and  you  could  make  cheese  and  butter,  and  sell  your 
steers  every  year,  while  trees  grow.  You  have  been  seven 


56  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

years  a  settler  on  this  rancho.  In  these  seven  years  you  have 
raised  two  good  crops;  three  poor,  or  only  middling,  and  two, 
no  crops  at  all." 

"Yes,  because  your  cattle  destroyed  them,"  said  Mathews. 

"No,  sir;  my  cattle  were  not  all  over  California;  but  the  bad 
seasons  were,  and  only  in  few  places,  moderately  good  crops 
were  harvested ;  in  the  southern  counties  none  at  all.  We  had 
rains  enough  to  get  sufficiently  good  grazing,  but  not  to  raise 
grain." 

"  I  think  you  are  right  about  the  uncertainty  of  our  seasons, 
and  I  think  a  good  dairy  always  pays  well,  also  a  good  orchard 
and  vineyard,"  said  Darrell.  "  But  the  question  is,  whether  we 
can  adopt  some  feasible  plan  to  put  your  idea  into  practice." 

"  Yes,  how  many  cows  will  you  let  us  have  ?  "  asked  Hager. 

"  I  will  divide  with  you.  Next  week  I  shall  have  my  'rodeo? 
We  can  see  then  the  number  of  cattle  I  have  left.  We  shall  count 
them.  I  shall  take  half,  the  other  half  you  divide  pro  rata; 
each  head  of  a  family  taking  a  proportionate  number  of  cattle." 

"  That  is  fair,"  Darrell  said. 

" I  don't  want  any  cattle.  I  ain't  no  ivaquero'>  to  go  ''bus- 
quering''  around  and  lassooing  cattle.  I'll  lasso  myself;  what 
do  I  know  about  whirling  a  lariat?"  said  Mathews. 

"  Then,  don't  take  cattle.  You  can  raise  fruit  trees  and 
vineyards,"  said  Darrell. 

"  Yes,  and  starve  meantime,"  Mathews  replied. 

"  You  will  not  have  to  be  a  vaquero.  I  don't  go  '  busquer- 
tng'  around  lassooing,  unless  I  wish  to  do  so,"  said  the  Don. 
"  You  can  hire  an  Indian  boy  to  do  that  part.  They  know  how 
to  handle  la  reata  and  echar  el  lazo  to  perfection.  You  will  not 
starve,  either,  for  if  you  wish,  you  can  make  butter  and  cheese 
enough  to  help  to  pay  expenses.  I  think  this  State  ought  to 
make  and  export  as  good  cheese  as  it  now  imports,  and  some 
day  people  will  see  it,  and  do  it,  too.  Thus,  with  the  produce 
of  your  dairies,  at  first,  and  afterward  with  your  fruits,  you 
will  do  far  better  than  with  grain  crops,  and  not  work  as  hard. 
Let  the  northern  counties  raise  grain,  while  we  raise  fruits  and 


THE    SQUATTER    AND   THE    DON.  57 

make  wine,  butter  and  cheese.  You  must  not  forget,  either, 
that  every  year  you  can  sell  a  number  of  cattle,  besides  keeping 
as  many  milch  cows  as  you  need." 

"Where  can  we  sell  our  cattle?"  asked  Hancock. 

"Cattle-buyers  will  come  to  buy  from  you.  But  if  you  prefer 
it,  you  can  drive  your  stock  north  yourselves,  and  make  a  good 
profit.  Since  1850,  I  have  sent  nine  times  droves  of  cattle  to 
the  northern  counties,  and  made  a  handsome  profit  every  time. 
The  first  time  we  took  stock  north,  was  in  '50;  I  took  nearly 
six  thousand  head — three  thousand  were  mine — and  the  oth 
ers  belonged  to  my  brothers.  We  lost  very  few,  and  sold  at  a 
good  price — all  the  way  from  eighteen  to  twenty-five  dollars 
per  head.  About  five  hundred  of  mine  I  sold  as  high  as 
thirty  dollars  per  head.  I  made  sixty  thousand  dollars  by  this 
operation.  Then  out  of  the  next  lot  I  made  twenty-seven 
thousand  dollars.  Then  I  made  twenty-two  thousand,  and  so 
on,  until  my  tame  cows  began  to  disappear,  as  you  all  know. 
In  four  years  after  my  cows  began  to  get  shot,  my  cattle  de 
creased  more  than  half.  Now  I  don't  think  I  have  many  more 
than  three  thousand  head.  So  you  cannot  blame  me  for  wish 
ing  to  save  these  few.  But  believe  me,  the  plan  I  propose  will 
be  as  beneficial  to  you  as  to  me,  and  also  to  the  entire  county, 
for  as  soon  as  it  is  shown  that  we  can  make  a  success  of  the 
industries  I  propose,  others  will  follow  our  example." 

"  If  you  have  only  three  thousand  head,  you  can't  spare 
many  to  us,  and  it  will  hardly  be  worth  while  to  stop  planting 
crops  to  get  a  few  cows,"  said  Gasbang. 

"  I  think  I  will  be  able  to  spare  five  or  six  hundred  cows.  I 
don't  know  how  many  I  have  left." 

"  We  will  buy  from  somebody  else,  if  we  want  more,"  said 
Darrell.  "  We  won't  want  many  to  begin  with ;  it  will  be  some 
thing  of  an  experiment  for  some  of  us." 

"  For  all  of  us  here.  Perhaps  you  understand  vaquering; 
we  don't,"  said  Hancock;  all  laughed. 

"  Then  fence  your  claim  and  plant  grain,"  Darrell  retorted. 

"  I  am  not  so  big  a  fool  as  to  spend  money  in  fences.  The 
1  no  fence'  law  is  better  than  all  the  best  fences,"  Mathews  said. 


58  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

"  But  what  if  you  make  more  money  by  following  other  laws 
that  are  more  just,  more  rational  ?  "  said  the  Don. 

"  The  '  no  fence '  law  is  rational  enough  for  me,"  said  Miller. 

"  And  so  say  I,"  said  Mathews. 

"  And  I,"  said  Gasbang. 

Hughes  nodded  approvingly,  but  he  was  too  much  of  a 
hypocrite  to  commit  himself  in  words. 

"  We  did  not  come  to  discuss  the  '  no  fence '  law,  but  only  to 
propose  something  that  will  put  more  money  in  your  pockets 
than  killing  dumb  beasts,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin. 

"Then  propose  something  practicable,"  said  Mathews. 

"  I  think  what  has  been  proposed  is  practicable  enough," 
Darrell  said. 

"  Certainly  it  is,"  Mr.  Mechlin  added. 

"  I  don't  see  it,"  said  Mathews. 

"  Nor  I,  either,"  added  Gasbang. 

"  Nor  I,  neither,"  said  Hughes. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  Don  Mariano,  rising,  "I  shall  leave 
you  now ;  you  know  my  views,  and  you  perhaps  prefer  to  dis 
cuss  them,  and  discuss  your  own  among  yourselves,  and  not  in 
my  presence.  Take  your  time,  and  when  you  come  to  a  final 
decision  let  me  know.  Perhaps  I  can  advance  the  money  to 
those  of  you  who  do  not  have  it  ready  to  purchase  fencing 
lumber.  I  shall  charge  no  interest,  and  give  you  plenty  of 
time  to  pay." 

"  I  will  do  that,  Senor  Alamar,"  Clarence  said ;  "  if  the  set 
tlers  agree  to  fence  their  lands,  I  will  advance  the  money  to 
them  to  put  up  their  fences." 

"  Yes,  and  if  our  crops  fail,  we  will  be  in  debt  to  the  ears, 
with  a  chain  around  our  necks,"  Mathews  growled. 

"  I  thought  you  said  that  if  it  were  not  for  my  cattle,  your 
crops  would  not  have  failed,"  said  Don  Mariano,  smiling. 

"  I  said  so,  and  it  is  so.  But  you  see,  that  was  before  we 
had  the  ' no  fence'  law,"  answered  he,  grinning. 

Don  Mariano  shook  hands  with  Clarence,  whom  he  invited 
to  call  at  his  house — this  invitation  Clarence  accepted  with 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  59 

warm  thanks — and  followed  by  his  sons  and  his  friend  Mr. 
Mechlin,  Don  Mariano  took  his  leave,  bowing  to  the  settlers, 
who  nodded  and  grinned  in  return. 

"  I  suppose  you,  too,  think  the  '  no  fence'  law  iniquitous,  as 
you  appear  to  favor  the  aristocracy,"  said  Gasbang  to  Clarence. 

"  It  is  worse  than  that,  it  is  stupid.  Now  it  kills  the  cattle, 
afterwards  it  will  kill  the  county,"  Clarence  answered. 

"  Shall  we  plant  no  wheat,  because  the  Spaniards  want  to 
raise  cattle  ?  "  Mathews  asked. 

"  Plant  wheat,  if  you  can  do  so  without  killing  cattle.  But 
do  not  destroy  the  larger  industry  with  the  smaller.  If,  as  the 
Don  very  properly  says,  this  is  a  grazing  county,  no  legislation 
can  change  it.  So  it  would  be  wiser  to  make  laws  to  suit  the 
county,  and  not  expect  that  the  county  will  change  its  character 
to  suit  absurd  laws,"  Clarence  replied. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NAUGHTY  DOG  MILORD  AN  IMPORTANT  'FACTOR. 

Three  large  wagons,  each  drawn  by  six  horses,  were 
hauling  the  lumber  for  Mr.  DarrelPs  house,  which  was  already 
commenced. 

Victoriano,  riding  across  the  valley,  had  to  stop  to  let 
the  heavily  loaded  wagons  pass.  This  gave  Clarence  time  to 
overtake  him. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  he,  "  I  am  glad  to  catch  up  with  you, 
Don  Victoriano.  I  have  been  wanting  to  speak  to  you." 

Victoriano  bowed,  saying,  "  Will  you  go  to  my  house  ?  " 

"No,  I'd  rather  not.  I  am  not  dressed  to  be  seen  by  ladies. 
I  would  rather  speak  to  you  here." 

"You  are  going  to  build  a  large  house,  Mr.  Darrell?"  said 
Victoriano,  turning  his  horse  so  as  to  ride  beside  Clarence ; 
"judging  by  the  amount  of  lumber  being  hauled." 

"Yes;  rather.  We  are  a  large  family,  and  require  a  good 
deal  of  room.  But  before  we  do  any  more  work  I  want  to 
speak  with  your  father.  I  want  to  ask  him— ask  him  as  a 
favor — and  yet,  as  a  business  proposition" —  he  hesitated ;  he 
was  evidently  embarrassed ;  but  Victoriano,  not  guessing  the 
drift  of  his  words,  remained  waiting  silently,  offering  no  assist 
ance.  "  Well,"  he  continued,  "  I  mean  this :  I  don't  like  this 
fashion  of  taking  people's  lands,  and  I  would  like  to  pay  to 
Sefior  Alamar  for  what  has  been  located  by  us,  but  at  the  same 
time  I  do  not  wish  my  father  to  know  that  I  have  paid  for 
the  land,  as  I  am  sure  he  would  take  my  action  as  a  reproach — 
as  a  disclaimer  of  his  own  action,  and  I  don't  wish  to  hurt  his 
feelings,  or  seem  to  be  disrespectful  or  censorious." 

"  I  understand,  and  I  think  my  father  will  be  willing  to  sell 
the  land.  He  is  at  home  now.  Let  us  go  up  to  see  him." 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  6 1 

"  Had  you  not  better  speak  to  him,  and  make  an  appoint 
ment  for  me  to  see  him  to-morrow,  or  some  other  time  ?  I'd 
rather  not  risk  being  seen  by  the  ladies  in  this  blue  flannel 
shirt  and  heavy  boots.  I  look  too  rough — like  a  smuggler  or 
a  squatter,  sure." 

"  I  can  call  my  father  to  speak  to  you  outside,  so  that  the 
ladies  need  not  see  you.  But  if  they  should,  that  needn't  dis 
turb  you.  They  have  too  much  sense  not  to  know  that  you 
would  not  be  working  in  white  kid  gloves.  Come  on.  The 
front  veranda  is  empty.  Mother  and  three  of  my  sisters  are 
at  the  Mechlin's.  Mercedes  is  the  only  one  at  home,  and  she 
is  too  busy  with  her  embroidery  in  Madam  Halier's  room  to 
come  near  you.  I'll  bring  father  to  the  front  veranda." 

Clarence  and  Victoriano  tied  their  horses  by  the  garden  gate 
and  walked  to  the  piazza.  The  hall  door  was  ajar.  Clarence 
saw  no  ladies  about  and  felt  reassured. 

There  were  three  steps  leading  from  the  walk  through  the 
garden  up  to  the  front  veranda.  These  steps  were  exactly 
opposite  to  the  hall  door. 

Victoriano  took  the  path  to  the  right,  saying  :  "Go  up 
and  sit  down.  I'll  bring  my  father  here." 

" Do  not  disturb  him  if  he  is  taking  his  siesta" 

"The  siesta  hour  is  past,  I'll  find  him  at  the  office,"  said  he, 
going  round  the  corner,  leaving  Clarence  to  walk  up  the  front 
step.  As  he  did  so,  he  heard  a  tinkling  of  little  bells  and 
rushing  of  feet,  as  if  somebody  was  running.  Then  a  laughing 
voice,  the  timbre  of  which  was  sweetly  pleasing,  saying: 

"Stop,  Milord !  you  bad  dog !     Milord  !  Milord ! " 

At  the  same  moment,  through  the  narrow  opening  of  the 
door,  out  darted  a  little  white  dog,  dragging  after  him  a  large 
and  much  entangled  skein  of  bright-colored  silk.  Clarence 
was  nearly  stepping  on  the  little  runaway,  when  the  door  was 
flung  open,  and  a  girl  rushed  out,  coming  against  him  before 
she  could  check  herself.  In  her  effort  to  do  so  she  turned  her 
foot  and  staggered  forward,  but  before  she  realized  she  was  in 
any  one's  presence,  she  felt  two  strong  arms  holding  her. 


62  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  as  a  sharp,  hot  pain  darted  through 
her  ankle.  She  saw  that  the  two  arms  which  held  her  were 
none  of  her  father  or  brothers',  and  that  they  were  covered 
with  blue  flannel. 

Looking  up  to  see  the  face  above  them,  their  eyes  met. 
Her's  expressed  surprise,  his  merriment.  But  a  change  in 
their  expression  flashed  instantaneously,  and  both  felt  each  other 
tremble,  thrilled  with  the  bliss  of  their  proximity.  Her  face  was 
suffused  with  burning  blushes.  She  was  bewildered,  and 
without  daring  to  meet  his  eyes  again,  stammered  an  apology; 
extending  her  hand,  to  reach  some  chair  or  table  to  hold 
herself,  but  they  all  were  crowded  at  both  ends  of  the  piazza.. 

"You  are  hurt.  I  am  afraid  you  are  hurt,"  said  he,  with 
pale  lips,  reflecting  the  palor  he  saw  come  to  her  face,  succeed 
ing  her  crimson  blush.  "  I  know  you  are  suffering.  What  can 
I  do?  I  am  so  sorry!" 

"  O  no,  I  only  turned  my  foot  a  little,"  she  answered,  ven 
turing  to  look  at  him  for  an  instant.  "  I  shall  be  all  right  in  a 
minute.  " 

"  If  you  turned  your  foot,  don't  put  any  weight  upon  it.  Do 
not  try  to  walk,  let  me  carry  you  to  a  chair. " 

"O  no,  no  !  I  am  not  so  much  hurt  as  to  require  giving  all 
that  trouble. " 

"Please  let  me.  It  will  be  no  trouble;  only  a  great  pleas 
ure.  "  He  was  in  earnest  and  spoke  quite  seriously.  "Are  you 
afraid  I  could  not  carry  you?" 

"No,  not  that,  but  it  is  not  necessary,"  and  she  tried  to 
walk.  A  quick,  sharp,  burning  pain  through  her  ankle  admon 
ished  her  that  she  was  more  hurt  than  she  had  believed.  A 
slight  contraction  of  her  brows  betrayed  her  pain. 

"There  !  You  will  hurt  yourself  worse,"  said  he,  and  before 
she  knew  what  he  was  going  to  do,  he  stooped  a  little  and 
lifted  her  as  easily  as  if  she  had  been  a  little  child.  She  had 
no  time  to  think  whether  to  be  grateful  or  offended,  for  he 
quickly  walked  to  the  further  end  of  the  piazza  and  carefully 
placed  her  in  a  roomy  arm  chair.  Then  bending  a  knee  before 
her,  said: 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  63 

"Forgive  my  lifting  you  without  your  permission.  I  knew 
you  would  not  give  it,  and  I  knew  also  that  you  were  suffering. 
Will  you  forgive  me?  "  His  voice  was  soft,  caressing,  pleading, 
but  his  eyes  seemed  to  her  to  emit  rays  full  of  attractive,  earnest 
force  which  she  felt  had  great  power.  They  dazzled  her,  and 
yet  those  eyes  were  so  mild,  so  kind.  She  looked  down,  mak 
ing  no  answer.  "When  Don  Victoriano  comes  he  can  carry 
you  to  bed,  and — please — take  my  advice,  stay  there  until  the 
pain  has  entirely  left  your  foot. " 

She  ventured  to  look  at  his  eyes  again.  Who  could  this 
strong  young  man  be,  so  bold,  and  yet  so  gentle,  so  courteous 
and  yet  waiting  for  no  permission  to  take  so  positively  hold  of 
her,  to  carry  her  bodily  half  the  length  of  the  piazza..  And 
now  so  respectfully  asking  on  his  knees  to  be  forgiven?  Ask 
ing  with  tones  of  tender  humility  in  his  voice,  while  his  eyes 
she  knew  could  emanate  subduing  magnetic  beams. 

"How  do  you  know  Victoriano  is  coming?  He  went  out 
riding, "  she  said,  evading  the  question  of  forgiveness,  and  for 
the  sake  of  making  some  reply  that  would  hide  her  confusion. 

"Yes,  but  I  met  him  and  he  returned  with  me.  He  has  gone 
to  look  for  Seiior  Alamar,  I  came  to  see  him  on  business,"  said 
the  respectful  young  man,  still  on  his  knees. 

"Do  you  know  my  father?  " 

"Only  very  slightly."  They  were  silent.  He  added:  "I 
met  him  a  few  days  ago  when  he  had  that  meeting  with  -the 
squatters. " 

"Were  you  at  the  meeting?  "  said  she,  avoiding  his  gaze. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  watching  her  beautiful  face.  What  would 
she  think  of  him,  believing  him  a  Squatter,  one  who  came  to 
take  land  that  did  not  belong  to  him?  How  he  wished  that 
she  would  look  up,  that  he  might  see  her  lovely  eyes  again,- for 
if  to  her  his  eyes  seemed  so  glorious,  to  him  hers  fascinated, 
conquered,  with  a  power  that  he  never  thought  could  exist  in 
any  human  being.  Trembling,  he  felt  that  he  was  madly  in  love 
with  her.  Yes,  already  in  love.  Love  at  first  sight,  surely.  But 
if  it  killed  him,  no  matter,  he  would  love  her  to  the  last  instant 
of  his  life. 


64  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

Voices  were  heard  approaching  through  the  hall.  He  stood 
up  and  walked  towards  the  door.  Sefior  Alamar  came  forward 
and  shook  hands  with  him.  Victoriano  explained  the  reason 
of  his  delay  being,  that  he  had  to  look  for  his  father  all  over 
the  house,  and  at  last  found  him  in  the  furthest  "corral"  look 
ing  at  some  new  colts  just  brought  in. 

"I  am  glad  that  Mercedes  came  to  converse  with  you,"  said 
Victoriano. 

"I  did  not  come  to  converse.  I  did  not  know  that  the  gen 
tleman  was  here.  I  came  by  accident, "  she  hastened  to  reply. 
"I  was  trying  to  catch  Milord  when  I  stumbled  and  would 
have  fallen,  had  not  this  gentleman  prevented  it."  So  saying, 
she  blushed  anew;  her  blushes  being  immediately  reflected  on 
Clarence's  forehead,  made  them  both  look  like  a  couple  of 
culprits. 

"I  fear  the  lady's  foot  is  hurt, "  said  he. 

"Is  it?"  exclaimed  Don  Mariano,  going  towards  Mercedes. 
"Does  it  pain  you  baby?" 

"Yes  papa,  a  little.  It  burns  me.  Do  you  think  it  would 
be  bad  for  me  to  walk  to  my  room?  " 

"Of  course  it  would, "  Clarence  said,  and  blushed  redder  yet 
at  his  temerity. 

"Can  you  stand  on  your  foot?"  Victoriano  asked. 

"I  don't  know." 

"Don't  try.     I'll  carry  you  to  your  room,"  said  her  father. 

"Women  have  no  business  to  have  such  small  feet.  They 
are  always  stumbling  and  can't  walk  worth  a  cent, "  said  Vic 
toriano,  going  to  look  at  his  sister's  foot.  "See  here.  No  won 
der  they  stumble.  Look  at  the  little  slipper.  Why  don't  they 
wear  good  broad  boots?"  So  saying  he  took  off  the  little  slip 
per,  which  seemed  made  for  a  Cinderella. 

"You  are  too  absurd,"  said  Mercedes,  blushing  again, -to see 
her  slipper  brandished  aloft,  in  the  face  of  a  stranger. 

"  I  ain't.     It's  women's  feet  that  are  absurd." 

"When  we  want  the  ladies  to  be  infantry  soldiers,  then 
we  will  ask  them  to  cultivate  big  feet,"  said  Don  Mariano, 
laughing. 


65  THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

"  But  not  until  then,  please,"  said  Clarence,  smiling. 

"Aha  !  I  see  you  cherish  the  general  male  weakness," 
said  Victoriano,  kneeling  before  his  sister  to  put  on  the  little 
slipper.  "I  am  the  only  strong- minded  man,  I  know.  Come, 
pussy,  I'll  carry  you  to  your  room." 

"No,  no.     You  take  me,  papa,  Tano  might  drop  me," 

"Nonsense  ;  as  if  I  couldn't  carry  a  kitten  like  you." 

"  Papa,  you  take  me,  but  not  to  bed.  Put  me  on  the  lounge 
in  mamma's  room,  and  call  Madam  Halier  to  me." 

"All  right ;  anything  to  please  the  children,"  said  Don  Ma 
riano,  stooping  to  lift  her. 

She  put  her  arms  around  his  neck,  and  whispered  :  "  Papa, 
who  is  this  young  man?  I  never  saw  him." 

"That  is  a  fact,"  said  Don  Mariano,  taking  her  up,  and 
turning  toward  Clarence,  said:  "Mr.  Darrell,  permit  me  to 
present  you  to  my  daughter,  Mercedes,  'our  baby.'"  So  saying, 
he  dandled  her  a  little  in  his  arms. 

"Oh,  papa,  you  make  me  ridiculous!  How  can  I  bow  like 
a  lady,  when  you  are. rocking  me  like  an  infant!"  she  said, 
laughing,  but  blushing  again  like  a  rose. 

''Shake  hands  with  the  gentleman,  that's  a  dear,"  said  Vic 
toriano,  talking  baby  talk  to  her. 

"Oh,  papa,  make  Tano  hush.  Mr.  Darrell,  I  am  afraid  that 
I  shall  always  seem  ridiculous  to  you." 

"Not  at  all;  I  don't  see  why,"  Clarence  replied,  "but  I  fear 
that  your  hurt  might  be  serious." 

"That's  it.  You  might  be  ridiculous,  but  your  hurt  might 
be  serious,"  said  Victoriano. 

It  was  Clarence's  turn  to  blush  now,  but  he  smiled  good 
naturedly. 

"You  won't  be  serious,  though.  I  wish  you  were,  and  po 
lite,  too,"  said  Mercedes.  "I  don't  know  what  Mr.  Darrell  will 
think  of  us." 

"Mr.  Darrell  will  see  us  often,  I  hope,  and  think  better 
of  Tano,"  said  Don  Mariano,  carrying  away  his  precious 
burden. 


66  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"My  opinion  is  all  that  you  could  wish,  Miss  Mercedes," 
said  Clarence,  and  their  eyes  met,  transmitting  that  strange 
thrill  to  both. 

Don  Mariano  placed  Mercedes  tenderly  on  her  mamma's 
lounge,  called  Madam  Halier  to  attend  to  the  sprained  ankle, 
and  returned  to  the  veranda. 

Clarence  made  no  delay  in  stating  the  object  of  his  visit. 
He  said: 

"  Since  the  meeting  I  have  had  several  talks  with  the  settlers, 
and  the  result  has  been  my  conviction,  that  they  will  not  ac 
cept  your  generous  offer.  They,  no  doubt,  wish  to  take  up 
more  land,  and  think  it  cannot  be  done  if  they  bind  them 
selves  to  put  up  fences  by  accepting  your  proposition.  How 
short-sighted  they  are  time  alone  will  show,  for  at  present  they 
will  not  listen  to  reason." 

"I  am  very  sorry.  There  is  no  alternative  forme  but  to  sell 
all  my  cattle  as  soon  as  possible,  and  in  the  meantime  drive  all 
I  can  to  the  mountains." 

"  But  that  will  be  ruinous,  father.  How  can  we  herd  them 
in  the  mountains  ?  They  will  all  become  wild  and  run  away," 
said  Victoriano. 

"I  am  afraid  they  will.  I  am  sure  of  it,  in  fact.  But  there 
is  no  other  way  to  save  any  at  all." 

'•'I  think  this  'no  fence'  law  the  most  scandalous,  bare-faced 
outrage  upon  the  rights  of  citizens  that  I  ever  heard  of,"  said 
Clarence,  warmly.  "It  is  like  setting  irresponsible  trespassers 
loose  upon  a  peaceable  people,  and  then  rewarding  their  outrage. 
To  let  any  one  take  up  your  lands  right  before  your  eyes  is 
outrage  enough,  but  to  cap  the  climax  by  authorizing  people 
to  plant  crops  without  fences  and  then  corral  your  cattle, 
which  must  be  attracted  to  the  green  grass,  I  call  positively 
disgraceful,  in  a  community  which  is  not  of  vandals.  It  is 
shameful  to  the  American  name.  I  am  utterly  disgusted  with 
the  whole  business,  and  the  only  thing  that  will  make  matters 
a  little  tolerable  to  me  will  be  for  you  to  do  me  the  favor  of 
permitting  me  to  pay  for  the  land  we  have  located," 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  67 

"Does  your  father  wish  to  pay?" 

"I  do  not  know  whether  he  would  or  not.  I  fear  he  would 
not.  My  father  is  a  blind  worshiper  of  the  Congress  of  these 
United  States,  and  consequently  it  is  difficult  to  persuade  him 
that  our  legislators  might  possibly  do  wrong.  He  believes  that 
Congress  has  the  right  to  declare  all  California  open  to  pre-emp 
tion,  and  all  American  citizens  free  to  choose  any  land  not 
already  patented.  Thus,  he  thinks  he  has  the  right  to  locate 
on  your  land  (according  to  law,  mind  you),  because  he  believes 
your  title  has  been  rejected.  But  as  my  faith  in  our  law 
givers  is  not  so  blind,  my  belief  is  that  Congress  had  no  more 
right  to  pass  any  law  which  could  give  an  excuse  to  trespass 
upon  your  property,  than  to  pass  a  law  inviting  people  to  your 
table.  I  feel  a  sort  of  impatience  to  think  that  in  our  coun 
try  could  exist  a  law  which  is  so  outrageously  unjust.  My  pride 
as  an  American  is  somewhat  different  from  that  of  my  father. 
He  thinks  it  is  a  want  of  patriotism  to  criticise  our  legislation. 
Whereas,  I  think  our  theory  of  government  is  so  lofty,  so  grand 
and  exalted,  that  we  must  watch  jealously  that  Congress  may 
not  misinterpret  it;  misrepresent  the  sentiments,  the  aspira 
tions  of  the  American  people,  and  thus  make  a  caricature  of 
our  beautiful  ideal.  It  is  our  duty  and  privilege  to  criticise 
our  laws,  and  criticise  severely.  As  long  as  you,  the  native 
Californians,  were  to  be  despoiled  of  your  lands,  I  think  it 
would  have  been  better  to  have  passed  a  law  of  confiscation. 
Then  we  would  have  stood  before  the  world  with  the  responsi 
bility  of  that  barbarous  act  upon  own  shoulders.  That  would 
have  been  a  national  shame,  but  not  so  great  as  that  of  guarantee 
ing,  by  treaty,  a  protection  which  was  not  only  withheld,  but 
which  was  denied,— snatched  away,  treacherously, — making  its 
denial  legal  by  enactments  of  retroactive  laws.  This  I  call 
disgraceful  to  the  American  name.  Therefore,  in  my  humble 
way  and  limited  sphere,  if  I  cannot  repeal,  I  will  at  least  evade 
such  unjust  laws  to  the  best  of  my  ability,  and  make  them  in 
effective  as  far  as  I  am  individually  concerned.  I  only  wish  I 
could  wipe  out  those  stains  on  our  national  honor,  by  repeal- 


68  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

ing  at  onc"e  laws  so  discreditable  to  us.  Yes,  the  more  so,  as 
they  bear  directly  upon  the  most  defenseless,  the  most  power 
less  of  our  citizens — the  orphaned  Spano-Americans.  So, 
then,  I  hope  you  will  help  me  to  avoid  this  American 
shame,  by  permitting  me  to  pay  for  our  land  whatever  price 
you  think  just." 

"Very  well,"  said  Don  Mariano,  pleased  with  Clarence's 
honest  warmth,  and  to  hear  him  express  opinions  and  senti 
ments  so  very  similar  to  his  own.  "You  can  pay  whatever  you 
wish,  or  we  can  make  an  agreement  that  I  will  sell  to  you  when 
I  get  my  patent.  Such  is  my  understanding  with  Mr.  Mechlin 
and  also  with  your  father." 

"That  is  rather  vague.  I  would  prefer  to  pay  to  you  now  so 
much  per  acre.  With  the  understanding  that  my  father  ( or 
any  one  else )  is  not  to  know  I  have  made  this  purchase.  I 
mean  not  for  the  present. " 

"Would  your  father  object  to  it?" 

"Perhaps  not.  And  yet  he  might  see  in  it  a  disclaimer  from 
my  part — a  criticism.  He  is  a  settler — a  '•Squatter'1 — you 
know,  and  consequently  very  sensitive  about  ( what  they  call ) 
'•rights  of  settlers  under  the  law.'  He  knows  my  sentiments, 
but  one  thing  is  my  expressing  them  to  him,  and  another  is  to 
pay  money  for  land  he  thinks  he  has  lawfully  appropriated.  It 
might  seem  to  him,  I  imply  that  his  locating  perhaps  was  not 
altogether  as  honorable  a  transaction  in  my  eyes,  as  it  may  be 
lawful  in  the  eyes  of  the  lawmakers." 

"You  are  certainly  very  honorable,  and  I  am  willing  to  abide 
by  your  wishes  in  the  matter,"  said  Don  Mariano.  "You  view 
this  question  exactly  as  I  do." 

Clarence  blushed  with  pleasure  and  bowed,  saying: 

"You  are  very  kind,  and  that  you,  who  are  so  generous, 
should  be  made  to  suffer  as  you  have,  it  is,  I  assure  you,  so  re 
volting  to  me  (as  an  American  and  a  civilized  being)  that  I  have 
felt  great  desire  to  go  away  rather  than  to  live  among  these 
short-sighted  and  unappreciative  people  that  have  unfortunately 
fallen  upon  you. " 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  69 

Don  Mariano  laughed  and  said,  "No  don't  go  away.  Let 
me  have  one  friend  at  least,  among  so  many  opponents.  Pay 
whatever  you  wish,  and  take  as  much  land  as  you  desire 'to 
have,  but  don't  go." 

"I  thank  you,  indeed,  but  will  you  not  name  the  price?  I 
don't  think  it  is  right  for  me  to  put  a  price  upon  your 
property. " 

"My  dear  sir,  that  would  be  so  if  my  property  was  not  go 
ing  into — smoke  of  sulphur — but  as  it  is,  and  growing  fast  so 
'beautifully  less'  that  I  suppose  even  the  $1.25  of  government 
price  ought  to  be  a  handsome  figure  to  my  weary  eyes.  So 
name  any  price  you  wish. " 

It  was  agreed  that  Clarence  would  pay  $10.00  per  acre,  and 
take  up  640  acres  where  his  father  had  already  located.  It  was 
also  understood  that  the  purchase  should  not  be  mentioned  to 
any  one.  Don  Mariano  excepted  only  his  son  Gabriel.  Clarence 
said  he  would  except  his  mother,  inasmuch  as  she  had  told  him 
to  pay  for  the  land  or  else  she  would  not  come  to  reside  up 
on  it. 

Don  Mariano  said  that  he  would  like  to  mention  it  to  his 
family  and  the  Mechlins,  but  feared  that  if  only  some  allusion 
was  overheard  by  the  servants,  it  would  be  repeated. 

"I  have  no  objection  to  Mr.  Mechlin  knowing  it,"  Clarence 
said. 

"No,  but  they  have  for  servants  Hogsden  and  his  wife,  and 
they  are  very  dishonorable.  They  would  repeat  it  if  by  acci 
dent  they  heard  it." 

"It  is  a  pity  that  Mrs.  Mechlin  don't  send  those  two  thieves 
away,"  Victoriano  said. 

"Yes,  I  hear  that  the  woman  Hogsden  repeats  things  she 
hears  at  the  Mechlins,"  Clarence  said. 

"Of  course  she  does,  and  steals  too,  and  yet  Mrs.  Mechlin 
keeps  them, "  Victoriano  said,  impatiently. 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  best  to  say  nothing,  and  I  will  watch 
my  chance  to  tell  my  father  myself,  that  I  paid  for  the  land, " 
Clarence  said.  He  then  rose  to  go. 


70  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

As  he  went  down  the  veranda  steps  he  met  Milord  return 
ing,  still  dragging  the  skein  of  silk.  But  this  was  no  longer 
of  bright  variegated  hues,  it  was  black  with  mud  and  sadly 
masticated  by  Milord's  sharp  teeth,  which  proudly  held  it  as  if 
challenging  any  one  to  take  it. 

"You  wicked  Milord.  See  what  you  have  done  with  your 
poor  mistress'  silk.  She  will  be  distressed, "  said  Victoriano. 

On  hearing  himself  thus  apostrophised,  Milord  ran  off  again 
with  his  plunder,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  by  the  com 
bined  efforts  of  Victoriano  and  Clarence  he  was  at  last  cap 
tured,  but  the  bright  colors  of  the  silk  had  all  disappeared,  a 
blackened  skein  resembling  a  piece  of  wet  rope  was  pulled 
from  Milord's  sharp  teeth. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FROM  ALAMEDA  TO  SAN  DIEGO. 

The  Darrell  house  was  now  finished,  the  furniture  had 
arrived,  been  unpacked  and  distributed  in  the  rooms,  but 
the  house  seemed  to  old  Darrell  entirely  too  sumptuous  for 
the  plain  folks,  that  his  family  ought  to  be.  That  was  a 
truth. 

"  Look  here,  Clarence,  haven't  you  been  too  extravagant  in 
buying  such  expensive  carpets,  such  fine  furniture?  For 
gracious  sake,  how  big  is  the  bill  for  all  this  grandeur?" 

"I  don't  know  yet  the  price  of  every  item,  but  don't  be 
alarmed,  I  am  sure  they  would  not  go  beyond  the  limit  I 
gave  Hubert  (Hubert  made  the  purchases),  and  I  assure  you, 
it  will  all  be  paid  with  our  volunteer  crop." 

"Don't  be  sure  of  that." 

"O,  but  I  am  sure — only  not  too  much  so — which  is  the 
right  way  of  being  sure,"  he  replied. 

Clarence  was  now  a  regular  caller  at  the  Alamar  and  the 
Mechlin  houses.  He  felt  that  in  both  places  the  welcome  he 
received  was  sincere,  for  even  the  silent  Gabriel  was  always 
ready  to  talk  to  him.  As  for  Victoriano,  his  attachment  to 
Clarence  was  now  an  acknowledged  and  accepted  fact, — not 
rejected  by  Senor  Alamar,  to  judge  by  appearances, — and  cer 
tainly  fully  and  sincerely  reciprocated  by  Clarence.  Both 
found  great  pleasure  in  each  other's  society,  and  saw  each  other 
every  day. 

It  was  now  time  for  Clarence  to  go  to  Alameda  to  bring 
down  the  family.  He  and  Victoriano  talked  about  it  walking 
towards  the  Alamar  house  from  the  Darrells,  discussing  the 
probable  time  of  his  return. 


72  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Clarence  has  come  to  bid  us  good-by,"  said  Victoriano, 
walking  into  the  parlor,  followed  by  Clarence. 

"Why!  Where  is  he  going?"  said  Mercedes,  rising,  drop 
ping  the  book  she  was  reading. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  he  is  only  going  to  bring  his  mother  and 
sisters  down,"  added  Victoriano,  maliciously,  causing  the  blood 
to  rush  to  her  forehead. 

"Oh!"  she  exclaimed,  sitting  down,  with  a  resentful  look 
toward  her  brother,  and  a  half  appealing,  half  deprecating  one 
to  Clarence,  who  was  contemplating  her  in  ecstatic  silence. 

"  I  think  the  Holman  girls  will  be  coming  about  the  same 
time.  I  was  telling  Clarence  to  look  after  them  a  little,  if 
convenient,  and  if  they  are  not  sea-sick,"  said  Victoriano. 

"They  will  require  my  services  more  if  they  are  sick,"  said 
Clarence,  laughing. 

"If  you  are  a  good  nurse,"  Victoriano  observed;  adding, 
"Imagine  Corina  Holman  nursed  by  a  strange  young  gentle 
man;  that  would  kilMier  sure." 

"I  would  try  and  prevent  that,"  said  Clarence. 

"Thank  you,  for  my  friends.  I  do  not  think  they  will  be 
very  ill;  but  I  am  sure  it  will  be  pleasant  for  them  to  have  so 
good  an  escort,"  said  Mercedes. 

Clarence  promised,  therefore,  to  look  after  the  Misses  Hol 
man,  and  let  them  know  which  steamer  would  be  best  to  take 
coming  to  San  Diego. 

Mercedes  said  she  would  write  notifying  them  of  this  ar 
rangement. 

There  was  a  great  something  in  Clarence's  mind  that  he 
wished  to  say  to  Mercedes  before  leaving,  but  he  had  neither 
courage  nor  opportunity  to  say  it,  so  he"  left,  carrying  with  him 
the  burden  of  his  thoughts  untold. 

His  voyage  was  accomplished  in  safety,  the  steamer  arriving 
at  San  Francisco  at  the  regular  time.  Hubert  Haverly  came 
to  meet  him,  and  together  they  went  to  a  restaurant  for  breakfast. 

"Give  us  the  most  secluded  room  and  the  nicest  breakfast 
your  establishment  can  produce,  for  this  gentleman  is  very  par 
ticular,  and  I  am  very  hungry,"  said  Hubert. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  73 

The  waiter  smiled,  showed  them  to  the  best  room  in  the 
house,  and  retired. 

"Now  let  us  talk,"  said  Hubert,  "I  am  dying  to  tell  you  how 
rich  you  are,  and  scold  you  for  not  letting  me  keep  your  stock 
longer  and  making  you  richer.  Why  were  you  so  anxious  to 
sell?  The  stock  kept  rising  steadily.  I  was  a  'bull'  all  the 
time.  There  was  a  slight  break  once — only  once.  Some  fel 
lows  wanted  to  pull  the  stock  down,  and  got  a  few  'bears'  to 
work  with  them.  It  lowered  a  little,  but  only  a  few  of  the 
heavy  holders  had  any  fear,  and  it  soon  recovered,  shooting  up 
higher  than  ever.  I  got  your  order  to  sell  about  that  time, 
and  did  so,  but  I  assure  you  my  heart  ached  when  I  did 
it." 

"I  wrote  you  immediately  after  that,  it  was  only  the  first 
hundred  shares  I  wanted  sold." 

"Yes,  but  that  letter  I  got  three  days  after  I  had  sold  all. 
I  almost  cried  like  a  girl,  with  disappointment,  when  you  wrote 
that  I  was  to  send  you  only  $6000.  Now,  you  could  have  made 
a  whole  million  with  your  thousand  shares." 

"A  whole  million?" 

"Most  assuredly.  Look  at  yesterday's  quotations,  and  the 
stock  is  still  rising." 

"Truly,"  said  Clarence,  reading  the  stock  report;  "the  last 
paper  I  saw  was  dated  six  days  ago.  But  even  then  '  Crown 
Point'  was  still  very  high." 

"And  so  it  was,  but  it  is  very  disappointing  to  get  one-half 
of  a  million  when  you  might  as  well  get  a  whole  million.  I 
shall  never  cease  scolding  you  for  it." 

"Well,  I'll  bear  the  scolding  patiently,  considering  that  it  was 
to  avoid  scoldings  that  I  gave  you  the  order  to  sell." 

"To  avoid  scolding?     How  so?     From  whom?" 

"From  my  father.  He  is  terribly  down  on  mining  stocks. 
He  would  consider  me  next  to  a  thief  if  he  thought  I  bought 
stocks." 

"That  is  absurd.  You  needn't  tell  him  how  much  money 
you  have.  Here  is  my  statement  of  all  I  made;  my  commis- 


74  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

sion  and  moneys  paid  for  you.  I  sold  your  stock  at  a  fraction 
over  $800  per  share.  Oh,  Clarence,  why  did  you  make  me 
sell?  Look  at  this.  After  buying  the  government  bonds  as 
ordered  you  have  left  $260,000,  when  you  might  have  had  half 
a  million  over." 

"Never  mind.  I  made  enough.  I'd  rather  let  some  one  else 
make  the  balance  than  to  sell  when  things  begin  to  tumble 
down.  Did  you  say  $260,000?" 

"Yes,  $260,000,  when  it  ought  to  be  $400,000  at  least." 

Clarence  laughed  at  Hubert's  rueful  face. 

The  waiter  brought  in  their  breakfast. 

"Broiled  oysters  on  toast!  Oysters  baked  in  the  shell! 
Broiled  chicken.  Let  us  discuss  them  in  preference  to  stock," 
said  Clarence. 

Having  helped  his  friend  and  then  himself,  Hubert  said : 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  $260,000  now  since 
you  are  not  to  buy  stock?" 

"I  have  not  thought  about  it,  but  I  guess  the  best  thing 
would  be  to  invest  all  in  government  bonds." 

"Which  is  the  same  as  burying  your  cash." 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  like  to  do.  I  would  like  to  make  a 
safe  investment  that  would  give  me  about  $30,000  a  year,  and 
then  I  could  afford  to  let  you  gamble  with  the  balance,  if  there 
was  any  balance  left,"  Clarence  said. 

"I'll  see  to-day  what  government  bonds  are  selling  for,  and 
report  to  you  this  evening." 

"That  can't  be,  as  I  am  to  take  the  two  o'clock  boat  for 
Alameda." 

"When  will  you  be  back?" 

"To-morrow  evening  if  you  want  me,  but  if  not  I  shall  wait 
until  the  family  comes  down." 

".What  a  lucky  fellow  he  is,"  said  Hubert,  walking  towards 
the  Stock  Exchange,  after  promising  Clarence  to  see  him  to  the 
boat  at  two  o'clock.  "In  two  years  he  has  made  a  fortune  with 
a  capital  of  $2000." 

Hubert  was  right.     Clarence  had  been   a  lucky  investor. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  75 

With  the  sum  of  $2000  bequeathed  to  him  by  Mrs.  Darrell's 
Aunt  Newton,  when  he  was  only  five  years  old,  and  which  sum 
she  ordered  should  be  put  at  interest  until  he  was  twenty-one 
years  of  age,  Clarence  speculated,  and  now  he  was  worth  close 
on  to  a  million  dollars. 

Everything  was  ready  for  the  journey  when  Clarence  arrived 
at  his  Alameda  home. 

"  Don't  you  know  that  it  pulls  my  heart  string  to  tear  you  away 
from  this  place?"  Clarence  said,  looking  towards  the  nice 
orchard  and  field  beyond. 

"You'll  make  us  cry  if  you  talk  like  that,"  said  Mrs.  Dar 
rell.  "Alice  has  nearly  cried  her  eyes  out  already." 

"Never  mind,  our  lease  of  this  place  won't  be  out  for  two 
years  yet,  and  we  can  come  back  if  the  other  don't  suit,"  said 
Clarence  encouragingly. 

Two  days  after,  the  Darrells  left  Alameda  on  their  way  to 
San  Diego,  stopping  for  a  couple  of  days  only  at  San  Fran 
cisco.  On  board  the  steamer  Clarence  met  Mr.  Alfred  Hoi- 
man,  who  had  accompanied  his  daughters  and  now  placed 
them  under  Clarence's  care — "According  to  instructions  from 
Miss  Mercedes" — Mr.  Holman  added,  making  Clarence's 
blood  rush  to  his  head,  as  it  always  did  whenever  that  sweetest 
of  all  names  was  mentioned  in  his  presence.  "Tell  the  Ala- 
mares  I  shall  be  down  soon.  I  am  only  waiting  for  Tom  Scott 
to  escort  me."  So  saying,  Mr.  Holman  laughed  and  hurriedly 
kissing  his  daughters,  ran  down  the  gang  plank. 

Clarence  lost  no  time  in  presenting  the  Misses  Holman  to 
his  mother,  sisters  and  brothers,  all  of  whom  received  them 
with  politeness,  though  with  different  degrees  of  warmth,  ac 
cording  to  the  natural  share  of  affability  or  that  diffidence 
which  half  of  Darrell's  children  inherited  from  him,  especially 
the  two  eldest  daughters.  The  amiability  of  Alice  and  her 
mother's  gentle,  winning  ways,  however,  soon  dispelled  the 
damp  chill  that  Jane  and  Lucy's  reserve  generally  managed  to 
throw  over  strangers,  thus  before  the  steamer  got  under  way, 
all  were  conversing  and  laughing  like  old  friends,  discussing 
things  in  general  and  people  in  particular. 


76  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"I  think  you  have  made  a  conquest,"  said  Amelia  Holman 
to  Alice.  "Or  perhaps  two,  for  I  saw  a  little  yellow  haired  man 
with  a  very  red  neck,  come  this  way  and  look  at  you.  Then 
a  loose  jointed  fellow  who  walks  as  if  his  feet  are  too  heavy  to 
lift  and  just  drags  them,  follows,  and  he  too  looks  at  you  be 
seechingly." 

"Mercy!  I  don't  want  to  be  so  fascinating  as  all  that  might 
indicate,"  said  Alice,  laughing,  and  a  little  man  gesticulating, 
and  a  big  man  with  shuffling  gait  and  hands  in  the  pockets  of 
his  pantaloons,  listening  wearily,  were  seen  coming. 

"I  know  who  they  are,"  said  Clarence.  "The  little  one  is 
married,  so  Alice  can  rest  her  hopes  on  the  big  footed  one 
only." 

"Gracious,  how  very  repulsive  the  small  one  is,"  Cortina  ex 
claimed. 

"Who  are  they?"  Mrs.  Darrell  asked  when  they  had  turned 
to  go  back. 

"The  large  fellow  is  Dick  Mason,  brother-in-law  of  the  little 
red-skinned  one,  who  told  me  his  name  is  Peter  Roper,  and 
he  is  a  lawyer  bound  for  San  Diego  to  practice  law  there  (no 
matter  by  what  means),  he  says.  He  gave  me  this  information 
himself  when  I  went  to  check  our  baggage.  He  introduced 
himself  and  his  brother  Dick  on  the  strength  of  his  being  ac 
quainted  with  father.  He  also  asked  permission  to  present 
his  wife,  to  my  mother  and  sisters." 

"Did  you  give  that  permission?"  asked  Jane,  sternly. 

"I  did,  of  course;  but  if  his  skin  is  not  so  thick  as  it  is  red 
he  will  never  avail  himself  of  it.  I  noticed  he  had  been  drink 
ing,  so  I  told  him  that  at  present  my  mother  and  sisters  wished 
to  converse  alone  with  the  Misses  Holman,  of  whom  we  are 
the  escort,  but  that  before  we  reached  San  Diego  I  thought 
there  might  be  an  opportunity  to  present  his  wife,  perhaps." 

"What  did  he  say  to  that?"  Alice  asked. 

"  He  grinned  and  said :  'Pretty  large  escort,  ain't  it  ?  About 
a  dozen  people.'  Yes,  I  said,  but  the  young  ladies  are  very 
nice,  and  require  a  great  deal  of  attention.  'Do  they?'  said 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  77 

he,  and  his  yellow  eyes  leered,  and  sticking  his  tongue  to  one 
side  of  his  mouth,  made  his  cheek  bulge  out;  he  then  raised 
his  shoulders  and  lifted  his  elbows,  as  if  he  would  have  flown 
aloft  had  his  arms  been  wings." 

"How  impertinent  and  vulgar,"  Jane  exclaimed. 

"He  is  of  the  genus  hoodlum.  A  bird  aboriginal  of  the 
San  Francisco  sand  dunes,  resembling  the  peacock,"  said  Co- 
rina  Holman. 

"What  did  you  do  when  he  made  those  grimaces?"  Alice 
asked. 

"Nothing.  I  looked  at  him  as  if  I  expected  nothing  else, 
considering  that  it  must  be  natural  to  him  to  act  like  a  mon 
key.  My  impassibility  rather  disconcerted  him,  as  evidently 
he  expected  me  to  consider  him  very  funny,  and  laugh  at  his 
droll  antics.  He  added,  'Any  time  will  do,  as  my  wife  is  not 
over-anxious  to  make  acquaintances  generally.'  So  saying,  he 
threw  back  the  lappels  of  his  coat,  putting  his  thumbs  in  the 
arm-holes  of  his  vest,  and  strutted  off,  leaving  me  to  guess 
whether  he  was  making  fun  of  his  wife's  exclusiveness  or  ours. 
He  turned  back  soon,  though,  and  said,  'We'll  call  it  square, 
if  you  come  and  take  a  drink.'  When  I  declined  that  also, 
he  went  off  again,  and  this  time  angry  in  good  earnest." 

"I  hope  he  will  remain  so,  and  not  come  near  you  again," 
said  Jane. 

Vain  wish !  When  the  boat  stopped  at  Santa  Barbara,  Roper 
took  that  opportunity  to  present  his  wife  to  Mrs.  Darrell  on 
the  strength  of  his  acquaintance  with  her  husband.  He 
grinned  and  suppressed  a  giggle,  thinking  it  was  very  funny  to 
claim  friendly  relations  with  Darrell,  whom  he  had  never  seen. 
It  was  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference  to  him  that  Mrs.  Darrell 
would  find  out  his  falsehood  afterward.  All  that  he  wanted 
now  was  to  become  acquainted  with  the  Darrell  and  Holman 
ladies.  In  this  he  succeeded,  and  what  is  more,  succeeded 
according  to  his  principles,  in  utter  disregard  of  truth  or  self- 
respect.  He  trusted  to  his  inventive  genius  to  explain  how  he 
came  to  imagine  he  was  acquainted  with  Mr.  Darrell. 


78  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

When  the  boat  arrived  at  San  Diego,  Gabriel  and  Elvira 
came  to  the  wharf  to  meet  the  Misses  Holman.  They  thanked 
Clarence  for  the  excellent  care  he  had  taken  of  them,  and  El 
vira  asked  him  to  present  her  to  his  mother  and  sisters.  This 
was  done  with  pleasure,  and  he  was  glad  to  see  that  Elvira  and 
Gabriel  seemed  pleased  with  his  family. 

The  Holmans  would  remain  in  town  for  a  couple  of  days 
at  a  friend's  house,  after  that  they  would  go  to  the  Alamar 
rancho  to  make  their  visit  there.  Elvira  and  Gabriel  would  re 
main  with  them  to  be  their  escort.  Such  was  Elvira's  message 
home  sent  with  Clarence. 

Mr.  Darrell  came  on  board  to  meet  his  family,  but  Mr. 
Peter  Roper  was  too  intently  occupied  with  his  baggage  to  re 
new  his  acquaintance;  in  fact,  he  rather  hurried  off  the  boat 
to  avoid  him. 

The  Darrells  arrived  at  the  hotel  about  the  same  time,  but 
Peter  was  then  particularly  engaged  making  important  inquiries 
from  one  of  the  hotel  clerks. 

He  was  saying:  "So,  you  think  there  is  no  lawyer  of  any 
prominence;  not  one  that  might  be  called  a  leading  lawyer?" 

"I  didn't  say  that;  I  only  said  I  don't  know  of  any." 

"Exactly.  You  hear,  though,  who  has  the  largest  prac 
tice?" 

"If  you  call  a  large  practice  to  get  people  into  trouble  by 
spying  about  people's  business  and  getting  commercial  agen 
cies  (I  believe  that  is  what  he  calls  to  spy  and  pry  into  people's 
affairs),  then  old  Hornblower  is  the  leading  lawyer,  for  he 
leads  people  into  long  law  suits  always,  and  bleeds  them  and 
makes  money." 

"That's  the  man  for. me,"  said  Roper,  showing  his  purple 
gums  in  a  broad  grin,  and  the  orange  and  green  of  his  eyes  ex 
panding  with  feline  instincts. 

Romeo  Hancock  had  been  engaged  by  Clarence  before 
leaving,  to  take  charge  of  hauling  their  effects  to  the,  rancho. 
Romeo,  therefore,  was  there  with  three  large  wagons,  and  two 
vaqueros  to  convey  Mrs.  Darrell's  pretty  Jersey  cows.  But 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  79 

Clarence  had  to  see  that  everything  started  in  good  order  be 
fore  he  joined  his  family  at  the  hotel. 

"I  brought  the  Concord  wagon  for  the  women  folks  and  the 
light  spring  wagon  for  the  boys  and  Tisha,"  said  Mr.  Darrell. 
"The  Concord  holds  six  people  well,  and  at  a  pinch,  eight. 
The  light  wagon  the  same;  so  you  don't  have  to  have  any  ex 
tra  conveyances." 

"No,  father,  I  have  not  hired  any,"  Clarence  replied,  and 
exchanging  a  look  with  his  brothers,  said  that  everything  was 
ready  to  start,  and  all  walked  down  stairs. 

In  front  of  the  ladies'  entrance  was  a  very  handsome  car 
riage  which  Mrs.  Darrell  and  her  daughters  had  admired  very 
much  on  board  the  steamer;  next  to  it  was  a  pretty  phaeton 
which  they  also  had  admired,  and  behind  the  phaeton  was  Mr. 
DarrelPs  Concord.  He  frowned  and  said : 

"There  was  no  use  in  hiring  those  carriages,  Clarence." 

"Count  noses,  father,"  said  Clarence,  going  about  busily 
carrying  parcels  to  the  carriages  assisted  by  his  brothers,  allow 
ing  no  time  for  discussion — "Let  us  see.  Mother  and  father 
in  the  back  seat;  Jane  and  Lucy  in  the  front,  Clementina 
with  Everett,  the  driver.  In  the  phaeton  I  will  take  Alice,  her 
lap  dog  and  our  two  satchels,  and  last  but  not  least,  Webster 
will  take  'the  Concord'  with  Willie  in  the  front  seat  and  Tisha 
in  the  back  in  state,  with  the  cockatoos  and  canaries  and  par 
cels,"  said  Clarence,  patting  Tisha  on  the  back. 

All  laughed,  approving  the  disposition  of  forces. 

"Are  these  carriages  ours,  Clary?"  asked  Clementine. 

"It  looks  like  it,"  said  Clarence,  lifting  her  to  her  place, 
"and  you  shall  see  how  soon  the  phaeton  distances  the  big 
carriage." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

VlCTORIANO    AND    HlS    SlSTER. 

The  golden  rays  of  a  setting  sun  were  vanishing  in  the 
west,  and  a  silvered  moon  was  rising  serenely  over  the  eastern 
hills,  when  the  phaeton,  having  distanced  the  other  carriages 
by  a  full  half  hour,  reached  the  foot  of  the  low  hill  where  the 
Alamar  house  stood.  The  French  windows  opening  upon  the 
front  veranda,  sent  broad  streams  of  light  across  the  garden 
and  far  over  the  hill.  Sounds  of  music  greeted  Alice  and 
Clarence  on  their  arrival.  He  checked  his  horses  saying: 

"You  see  there  are  two  roads  here;  one  goes  directly  to  our 
house,  while  the  upper  one  passes  close  to  the  gate  of  the  Al- 
amares.  I  can  take  the  upper  road  if  you  would  like  to  hear 
the  music." 

"I  would,  indeed,  unless  it  might  seem  intrusive." 

"They  are  too  kind  hearted  to  think  that,  besides,  I  have  a 
message  of  Dona  Elvira  to  deliver,"  he  said,  guiding  his  horses 
to  the  left,  slowly  climbing  the  hill  to  approach  the  gate 
silently.  The  phaeton  stood  in  the  penumbra  between  the 
lights  of  two  windows,  and  it  had  not  been  heard.  The  sing 
ing  had  ceased,  the  prelude  of  a  Spanish  song  was  begun  and 
interrupted.  The  lady  at  the  piano  arose  and  selected  another 
piece  of  music,  and  began  the  accompaniment  of  the  old  and 
well  known  "Don't  you  Remember  Sweet  Alice,  Ben  Bolt?" 

"Who  is  that  lady?"  asked  Alice  in  a  whisper. 

"She  is  Miss  Mercedes,"  whispered  Clarence,  glad  of  the 
excuse  to  whisper,  and  with  a  preparatory  checking  of  breath 
and  swallowing  of  something  that  seemed  to  fill  his  throat  al 
ways,  when  her  name  was  mentioned. 

"I  hope  she  will  sing,"  said  Alice. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  8 1 

"Perhaps,"  was  the  laconic  reply,  and  both  waited  in 
silence.  Clarence  could  distinctly  hear  his  heart  throbs. 

A  man's  voice,  a  fine  tenor,  began  the  song.  He  sang  the 
first  stanza  so  correctly  and  with  so  much  feeling  that  it  seemed 
to  Clarence  that  he  could  not  have  listened  to  the  simple  mel 
ody  before  now  attentively  enough  to  appreciate  its  pathos,  for 
it  sounded  most  sweetly  touching  to  him.  Only  one  verse  was 
sung. 

"  I  never  thought  that  song  capable  of  so  much  expression, 
or  Tano  capable  of  giving  it  so  well." 

The  reason  why  Victoriano  interrupted  this  song  was  be 
cause  Mercedes  had  said,  "  Sing  something  else,  Tano,  that 
song  is  too  sad.  It  will  give  me  the  blues." 

"  Me  too.  Those  American  songs  always  speak  of  death  or 
dying.  Ugh !  You  sing  something  lively."  Then  he  added, 
"I  wonder  why  the  Darrells  haven't  come?  I  suppose  they 
are  going  to  remain  in  town  until  to-morrow."  So  saying  he 
walked  to  the  window.  His  eyes  were  too  well  trained  to  dis 
tinguish  objects  in  the  darkness  not  to  have  quickly  perceived 
the  phaeton,  though  it  could  not  be  seen  very  distinctly.  He 
saw  it,  but  thought  it  must  be  Gabriel  and  Elvira  returning  un 
expectedly.  He  ran  to  the  gate,  exclaiming : 

"Hallo!  What  made  you  return?  Didn't  the  Holmans 
come?  What  has  happened?" 

"Nothing,"  Clarence  answered.  "The  Holmans  came  all 
safe  and  sound,  and  I  delivered  them  into  the  hands  of  Don 
Gabriel,  who,  accompanied  by  Dona  Elvira,  came  to  meet  them. 
Dona  Elvira  requested  me  to  say  that  they  will  remain  in  town 
a  couple  of  days  and  then  come  home." 

"And  where  is  your  family?"  asked  Tano,  coming  to  the 
phaeton. 

"They  are  coming,  and  here  is  a  small  part  and  parcel  of 
the  same — called  our  sister  Alice.  Don  Victoriano  permit  me 
to  present  Miss  Alice  Darrell." 

"  Miss  Alice,  your  humble  servant,"  said  Victoriano,  bowing. 
"Allow  me  to  go  to  the  other  side  of  the  phaeton  to  try  a  more 


82  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

graceful  bow  a  little  nearer,  and  the  honor  of  shaking  hands,  a 
la  Americana."" 

Mercedes  came  now,  tripping  down  in  the  path,  also  think 
ing  that  their  carriage  had  returned,  because  some  accident  had 
happened  to  somebody. 

"Is  that  you,  Gabriel ? "  said  she. 

"You  come  and  see,"  said  Victoriano. 

She  came  close  to  the  phaeton,  right  between  the  wheels, 
but  still  thinking  she  saw  Gabriel,  said :  "  What  has  hap 
pened  ?  Ah  !  it  is  Mr.  Darrell,"  she  added,  with  a  tremor  in 
her  voice,  that  made  Clarence  think  she  was  alarmed. 

He  hastened  to  reply :  "  Nothing  has  happened.  Your 
friends  are  all  safe  and  well." 

"  This  is  Miss  Alice  Darrell.  Can  you  bow  to  her  in  the 
dark,  and  shake  hands?"  asked  Victoriano. 

"  I  think  I  can,  but  she  might  not  see  my  bow,"  said  Mer 
cedes,  laughing,  and  extended  her  hand,  saying:  "I  am  glad  to 
make  your  acquaintance,  Miss  Darrell." 

Clarence  took  her  hand,  as  Alice  had  not  seen  it. 

"See  here,  that  hand  was  for  me,"  Alice  said,  laughing. 

"Certainly,"  said  Clarence,  putting  Mercedes'  hand  in 
hers. 

"  Will  you  not  shake  hands  with  Clarence  ?  "  said  Victori 
ano.  "  I  declare,  solemnly,  girls  are  very  ungrateful.  Here 
Clarence  has  been  so  sorry,  because  you  hurt  your  foot, 
and  you  have  never  thanked  him  for  his  kind  sympathy." 

"  Mr.  Darrell  has  never  expressed  his  kind  sympathy  to  me, 
how  was  I  to  presume  he  felt  it  ?  " 

"The  presumption  would  have  been  mine  had  I  expressed 
all  I  felt,"  said  he,  taking  off  his  glove,  which  action  she 
rightly  understood  to  mean  that  he  wished  to  shake  hands 
with  her. 

She  extended  her  hand,  and  he  clasped  it  in  his.  That  in 
effable  thrill  which  he  felt  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  when  he 
lifted,  her  in  his  arms  was  now  felt  again.  It  coursed  through 
his  veins  with  the  warm  blood  that  rushed  to  his  heart. 


f 

THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  83 

Neither  one  took  any  notice  of  what  Victoriano  and  Alice 
were  saying  until  they  heard  him  say  : 

"  That's  all  right.  He  is  going  to  be  married  soon,  then  he'll 
be  on  the  shelf.  That's  a  comfort." 

"Who  will  be  on  the  shelf?"  Mercedes  asked. 

"  Gabriel,  of  course ;  and  I  am  glad  of  it,  as  Miss  Alice 
has  just  coolly  told  me  that  he  is  the  handsomest  man  she  ever 
saw,  forgetting  that  Clarence  is  here,  and  poor  me,  too." 

"Present  company  is  always  excepted,"  Alice  argued;  "and 
the  rule,  I  suppose,  applies  now,  though  I  cannot  well  see 
whether  it  does  or  not,  you  being  in  the  dark." 

"That  is  so.  Come  out  of  the  shadow."  Clarence  sug 
gested. 

"  I  can't  now.     I  feel  too  abashed,"  Victoriano  replied. 

"He  will  soon  recover.  His  fits  of  diffidence  don't  last 
long,"  said  Mercedes. 

"So  he  is  diffident  now?"  asked  Alice,  laughing. 

"Yes;  that  is  why  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  me  that  Gabriel 
is  handsome  ;  it  abashes  me  too  much." 

"  He  is  a  good  reasoner,  too,  you  see  that,  Miss  Darrell ; 
though  by  moonlight  his  logic  shines  but  dimly.  Come,  we 
must  not  keep  Miss  Darrell  longer,  since  they  will  not  come 
in,"  said  Mercedes. 

"I  think  you  might  stop  and  take  supper  with  us,"  said 
Victoriano. 

"  O,  no,  thank  you,"  Clarence  answered.  "  We  came  in  ad 
vance  to  light  the  lamps,  and  attracted  by  the  music,  took  the 
liberty  of  coming  over  the  road." 

"  I  am  sorry.  Then  you  must  have  heard  me  sing.  Bah  ! 
Mercedes,  it  is  your  fault,"  said  Victoriano. 

"  Don't  say  that.  You  sing  very  well,  only  the  song  is  very 
plaintive,  and  the  better  it  is  sung,  the  sadder  is  its  melody," 
Clarence  said. 

"  It  must  have  seemed  like  a  lugubrious  welcome  to  Miss 
Alice.  I  shall  never  sing  that  song  again,"  said  Victoriano, 
emphatically.  "  See  if  I  do." 


84  THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  for  you  are  constantly  sing 
ing  it,"  Mercedes  said. 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  be  a  prophetic  coincidence  that  you 
should  sing  it  as  I  came,"  said  Alice,  and  as  she  spoke  the 
supper  bell  rang. 

"  That  is  the  prophecy  I  meant,"  said  Victoriano,  and  all 
laughed,  glad  of  the  timely  turn  thus  given  to  the  conversa 
tion. 

"  With  this  assurance  we  must  go  home  comforted,"  said 
Clarence,  and  all  bade  each  other  good  night. 

The  lamps  were  lighted,  and  the  windows  and  doors  opened. 
The  Darrell  house  looked  as  if  there  was  an  illumination  for  a 
national  celebration. 

"  Let  us  go  and  see  how  the  house  looks  from  the  front  out 
side,  all  lighted  up,"  said  Clarence. 

They  went  out  to  look  at  it  from  the  garden. 

"  How  could  you  build  such  a  nice  house,  Clary,  and  how 
could  papa  allow  it  ?  "  Alice  said. 

"  Hush  !  You  must  never  speak  about  the  cost  of  this 
house  or  its  furniture.  I  have  made  lots  of  money  in  stocks, 
and  can  afford  it,  but  father  thinks  stock  gambling  is  next  to 
robbery." 

Mercedes  and  Victoriano  remained  for  a  few  moments  stand 
ing  by  the  gate,  watching  the  phaeton. 

"  By  Jove  !  but  isn't  she  sweet  !  She  has  just  left  me  deaf 
and  dumb  ! "  said  Victoriano,  as  the  phaeton  disappeared  down 
the  hill. 

"  Perhaps  you  are  deaf,  since  you  don't  hear  the  supper  bell 
ringing  again,  but  as  for  being  dumb  I  am  sure  the  greatest  beauty 
on  earth  couldn't  produce  that  effect." 

"  But  I  tell  you  I  am,  and  I  will  go  to  see  her  and  tell 
her  so  to-morrow,"  said  he,  following  his  sister  to  the  supper 
room. 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  kind.     The  idea  !" 

"Why  not,  pray?     Clarence  told  me  to  call  soon." 

"Yes,  but  he  supposed  you  would  have  the  good  taste  to 
wait  at  least  two  or  three  days." 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  85 

"  Three  days  !     Three  days  !     Not  if  I  am  alive  !" 

"What  is  that  about  being  alive?"  asked  Rosario. 

"  Let  him  tell  you,"  Mercedes  replied. 

"  That  I  am  going  to  see  that  sweet  little  Alice  Darrell  to 
morrow,  dead  or  alive,"  explained  Victoriano. 

"Who  will  be  dead  or  alive?"  asked  Carlota. 

"I,  of  course  !     What  a  question?"  Victoriano  exclaimed. 

"  As  you  could  not  go  there  if  you  were  dead,  I  thought  you 
meant  that  you  were  to  go  and  see  her  in  that  insensible  state," 
said  Carlota. 

Victoriano  looked  at  his  sister  reproachfully,  saying : 

"How  mean  to  talk  so  about  that  sweet  girl." 

"It  was  to  correct  you  from  expressing  yourself  in  that  style 
of  yours,  mixing  up  things  and  ideas  so  incongruously.  You 
ought  to  take  care  not  to  confuse  things  so  absurdly,"  Dona 
Josefa  said. 

"  Why  don't  you  talk  like  Gabriel  ?  He  always  uses  good 
language — in  Spanish  or  in  English,"  Carlota  added. 

"Bother  Gabriel,  and  Gabriel,  and  Gabriel!  Everybody 
throws  him  at  my  teeth,"  said  Victoriano,  beginning  to  eat  with 
very  good  appetite. 

"  The  operation  don't  hurt  your  teeth,  though,"  said  Rosa 
rio,  "  to  judge  by  the  very  effective  manner  in  which  you  use 
them." 

"  Of  course,  I  do,  because  I  am  an  amiable  good  fellow, 
who  bears  nobody  ill-will,  even  towards  his  harassing  sisters, 
and  much  praised  elder  brother,  who  is  hoisted  up  to  the  skies 
a  million  times  a  day  for  my  special  edification  and  good  ex 
ample.  It  is  a  good  thing,  I  tell  you,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  a 
very  fortunate  thing,  that  I  am  so  amiable,  and  Gabriel  so  good 
a  fellow,  or  else  I  would  have  punched  his  head  into  calf's 
head-jelly,  twice  a  day,  many  times." 

"There  is  your  confusion  of  ideas  again.  You  are  think 
ing  that  yours  might  have  been  the  calf's  head  made  into 
jelly,"  said  Rosario. 

"  No,  miss.  I  meant  what  I  said." 


86  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"  Gabriel-is  very  strong  and  a  good  boxer,"  Don  Mariano 
said. 

"  There  it  is  again !  Sweet  Alice  says  he  is  the  handsomest 
man  she  ever  saw ;  Lote  says  he  uses  beautiful  language,  and 
now  father  implies  that  the  fellow  could  whip  me  !  Give  me 
some  more  of  that  chicken  pipian  to  console  myself  with.  Say, 
mother,  why  is  this  delicious  chicken  stew  called  * pipiant' 
Because  it  makes  a  fellow  cpw '  lpio '  for  more  ?  or  because  the 
chicken  themselves  would  cry  l  pioj  lpio^  if  they  were  to  see 
their  persons  cooked  in  this  way  ?  "  Without  waiting  for  an 
answer  to  his  question,  he  added  :  "I  say,  mother,  arn'tyou  and 
the  girls  going  to  call  on  the  Darrells  ?  " 
"No,"  laconically  answered  Dona  Josefa. 
"Why  should  we?"  queried  Carlota. 

"  Because  they  are  neighbors  like  the  Mechlins,"  Victoriano 
replied. 

"Old  Mathews  is  our  neighbor,  too,"  said  Rosario. 
"But  he  is  a  thief,"  replied  Victoriano. 
"Isn't  to  steal  land  robbery?"  asked  Carlota. 
"The  Darrells  occupy  the  land  they  selected,  with  my  con 
sent,  so  I  hope  no  one  in  my  family  will  do  them  the  injustice 
to  say  that  they  have  stolen  our  land,  or  that  they  are  squat 
ters,"  said  Don  Mariano  firmly.    Then  added :    "But  I  do  not 
desire  any  one  of  you  to  speak  of  this  matter  with  anybody. 
Only  remember,  the  Darrells  are  not  squatters." 

"What  shall  we  say,  for  instance,  if  the  Holmans  should 
notice  that  we  are  very  friendly  to  the  Darrells,  but  not  so  to 
wards  the  squatters?"  Rosario  asked. 

"I  think  the  Holmans  will  be  too  well-bred  to  ask  ques 
tions,"  said  Dona  Josefa. 

"They  are  well-bred,  but  they  are  very  intimate  friends," 
Rosario  said. 

"And  very  inquisitive  ones,  too,"  added  Victoriano. 
"Refer  them  to  me,"  Don  Mariano  said;  "I'll  give  them 
quite  a  satisfactory  answer." 

"Meantime,  are  we  not  to  visit  them?"  Victoriano  asked. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  87 

"Visit  whom?"  Carlota  asked. 

"The  Darrells,  of  course,"  Victoriano  answered. 

"I  thought  you  meant  the  Holmans,  as  we  spoke  of  them 
last." 

"Bother,  with  your  grammar,  you  had  better  keep  school," 
Victoriano  said. 

"You  had  better  go  to  one,"  Carlota  retorted. 

"I  have  enough  of  it  here.  The  question  now  is  the  visit 
to  the  Darrells.  Is  this  family  to  visit  them  or  not?" 

"Why,  you  are  to  do  so  to-morrow,  dead  or  alive,"  Rosario 
said. 

"Bother!  You  will  call,  Mercita,  won't  you?" 

"With  pleasure,  if  mamma  will  permit  me,"  Mercedes  replied. 

"You  are  a  sweet  pussy  always,  and  the  best  of  sisters. 
Can't  she  go,  mother?  " 

"Certainly,  if  her  father  does  not  object." 

"I  not  only  do  not  object,  but  I  shall  be  pleased  to  have 
Mercedes  and  her  mamma  and  sisters  all  call,  for  I  think  Clar 
ence's  mother  must  be  a  lady." 

"Hurrah  for  father,  he  is  a  man  after  my  own  heart,"  said 
Victoriano,  clapping  his  hands. 

"Papa  feels  proud  of  your  approval,"  Carlota  said. 

"I  would  suggest  that  Tano  make  a  reconnoitering  visit  before 
Mercedes  goes,  as  a  leader  of  a  forlorn  hope,"  said  Rosario. 

"Goodness,  how  military  your  terms,  but  how  little  your 
courage,"  said  Victoriano,  derisively. 

"I  admit  that  I  always  dread  to  face  squatters,"  said  Rosario. 

"I  think  I  said  that  the  Darrells  are  not  to  be  considered 
squatters  nor  called  so  by  any  Alamar,  and  I  repeat  that  such 
is  my  wish.  Moreover,  not  every  settler  is  necessarily  a  squat 
ter,"  said  Don  Mariano. 

"I  beg  pardon.     I  forgot  that,"  said  Rosario. 

"Don't  do  it  again,  Rosy  Posy,  don't,"  said  Victoriano,  ris 
ing  from  the  table,  stroking  his  sister's  back  as  if  to  pacify  a 
fractious  colt.  Then  going  to  a  window,  said:  "Mercedes 
come  here.  Look  at  that;  isn't  that  fountain  lovely?" 


88  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

In  the  front  garden  of  the  Darrell  house,  opposite  to  the 
front  door  and  surrounded  by  flowers  and  choice  plants,  Clar 
ence  had  erected  a  fountain  which  was  to  emit  its  numerous 
jets  of  chrystaline  water  for  the  first  time,  when  his  mother 
should  drive  up  to  the  door.  She  had  done  so,  and  the  foun 
tain  was  sending  upwards  its  jets  of  diamonds  under  the  rays 
of  the  reflectors  at  the  front  door.  The  effect  was  pretty  and 
brilliant.  Clarence's  filial  love  was  sweetly  expressed  in  the 
music  of  the  fountain. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CLARENCE  is  THE  BEARER  OF  JOYFUL  NEWS. 

The  Darrell  family  had  been  the  happy  dwellers  of  their 
fine  house  on  the  Alamar  rancho  for  nearly  two  months,  and 
the  three  Misses  Holman  had  been  the  guests  of  the  Alamar 
family  for  the  same  length  of  time,  and  now  the  month  of  Sep 
tember,  1872,  had  arrived. 

The  awnings  at  the  east  and  south  side  of  the  front  veranda 
were  down,  and  in  that  deliciously  cool  place,  the  favorite  re 
sort  of  the  Alamar  ladies,  they  now  sat  with  their  guests — the 
Holmans — engaged  in  different  kinds  of  fancy  work,  the  greater 
portion  of  which  was  intended  to  be  wedding  presents  for  El 
vira  and  Lizzie  Mechlin,  who  were  to  be  married  in  a  few 
months. 

Mercedes  was  the  only  one  not  at  work.  She  was  reclining 
on  a  hammock,  reading. 

"Arn't  you  going  to  work  anything  for  the  girls,  Mercedes?" 
Rosario  inquired. 

"  Which  girls  ? "  Mercedes  asked,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on 
her  book. 

"  Lizzie  and  Elvira,  of  course,"  Rosario  answered. 

"  I  will  when  the  wedding  day  is  fixed." 

"  It  will  soon  be,  when  George  arrives,"  Dona  Josefa  said. 

"  That  will  be  time  enough  for  my  work,"  said  Mercedes, 
looking  from  her  book  down  the  valley,  towards  the  Darrell 
house,  as  if  casually  observing  from  under  the  awning  the  green 
meadows  below. 

"What  made  you  come  here?  The  back  veranda  is  en 
tirely  shaded,  and  much  cooler.  I  have  been  waiting  for 
you  there.  Pshaw  ! "  said  Victoriano,  coming  forward  and 
stretching  open  a  hammock  to  throw  himself  into  it. 


90  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"  Had  we  known  that,  we  would  all  'have  rushed  there,"  said 
Corina  Holman. 

"  In  a  perfect  stampede,"  added  Rosario. 

"  I  thought  you  had  gone  with  your  father,"  Dona  Josefa 
said. 

"No ;  he  said  he  might  stay  to  lunch  at  aunt's.  It  is  too  hot 
a  day  to  be  riding  about  in  the  sun." 

"Certainly,  after  having  been  in  the  moon  for  two  months 
the  change  of  temperature  might  hurt  you,"  said  Amelia 
Holman. 

"  That's  a  fact ;  I  have  been  in  the  moon  ever  since  you  came," 
assented  Victoriano. 

"Your  moon  stays  in  the  valley,  it  doesn't  rise  to  this  level," 
said  Amelia. 

"  It  is  a  lovely  moon  wherever  it  may  shine.  I  say,  Baby, 
won't  you  go  with  me  to  the  Darrells  this  evening?"  asked  he, 
addressing  Mercedes,  who  made  no  reply,  for  the  reason  that 
she  had  just  seen  Clarence  coming  on  horseback,  and,  as 
usual,  when  any  one  spoke  of  him,  or  she  unexpectedly 
saw  him,  she  found  it  necessary  to  take  a  little  time,  in  order 
to  steady  her  voice,  which  otherwise  might  betray  her  heart's 
tumult. 

"  Mercedes'  French  novel  must  be  very  interesting,"  Carlota 
said. 

"  It  is  not  a  novel — it  is  French  history,"  said  Madam 
Halier. 

"  Mercedes,  Tano  wants  you  to  escort  him  this  evening," 
said  Rosario.  "  Will  you  take  him  ?  " 

"Where?"  Mercedes  asked,  without  moving. 

"  To  the  moon,"  said  Corina. 

"She  means  to  the  third  heaven, "rejoined  Victoriano. 

"  I  declare,  the  God  of  Love  is  truly  miraculous.  I  think  it 
could  even  poetize  the  Pittikin  girls,  or  the  Hughes,  in  Tano's 
opinion,"  said  Carlota. 

"Talk  of  the  angels,  and  you  hear  the  clatter  of  their  hoofs," 
said  Rosario  j  "there  he  is  at  the  gate." 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  91 

"  This  awning  is  too  low — we  don't  see  people  until  they  are 
upon  us,"  said  Carlota. 

"  I  am  off.  I  suppose  he  will  stay  to  lunch,  that  will  give 
me  all  I  want  of  his  charming  society,"  said  Rosario,  rising  to 
go  as  Clarence  dismounted  at  the  gate. 

"  Stay,  he  has  seen  us  all ;  it  would  be  discourteous  to  leave 
now,"  said  Doha  Josefa,  and  Rosario  remained. 

Victoriano  jumped  out  of  the  hammock  to  meet  Clarence. 

"Hallo,  yourself  and  welcome  !     Any  news  ?  " 

"  Yes,  big  news,"  Clarence  replied,  blushing  crimson, — not 
at  the  news  he  brought,  as  one  might  have  supposed, — but  be 
cause  he  had  just  seen  two  little  feet,  in  a  tiny  pair  of  slippers, 
with  blue  rosettes,  which  he  well  knew.  These  little  blue  ro 
settes  had  set  his  heart  to  beating,  sending  more  than  the  nor 
mal  amount  of  blood  to  his  head. 

On  leaving  her  hammock  to  take  a  chair  Mercedes  had 
shown  those  tantalizing  tip  ends  of  her  slippers,  half  hidden  in  a 
mass  of  lace  ruffles.  That  was  all,  and  yet  poor  Clarence  was 
disconcerted,  and  became  more  and  more  so,  on  perceiving 
that  there  were  not  less  than  nine  ladies  on  that  veranda ;  nine 
pairs  of  eyes  which  had  undoubtedly  observed  his  own,  devour 
ing  the  blue  rosettes. 

"What  is  the  news,  pray?  Don't  kill  us  with  suspense," 
pleaded  Miss  Corina  Holman. 

"  The  news  is  that  Colonel  Scott  has  arrived  at  San  Francis 
co,  and  will  be  in  San  Diego  next  week." 

"  Hurrah,"  shouted  Victoriano,  "  now  we'll  all  be  rich." 

"How  do  you  make  that  out  ?"  Rosario  asked. 

"  Never  mind  how,  we'll  not  go  into  particulars." 

"No,  better  not,"  Rosario  advised. 

"  Papa  will  be  so  glad  to  hear  this  news,"  said  Mercedes, 
"and  Mr.  Holman,  also.  He'll  come  down  now,  will  he 
not?" 

"Yes,  father  will  come  down  with  Col.  Scott,  and  may  be 
build  us  a  house  right  away,"  said  Amelia. 

"There  is  papa  now;  I  am  so  glad,"  Mercedes  ex 
claimed. 


92  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"  I  must  run  with  the  news  to  him,"  said  Victoriano,  rushing 
madly  through  the  hall,  to  the  patio,  or  court,  where  Don  Ma 
riano  had  just  dismounted. 

The  news  was  so  gladdening  to  Don  Mariano,  that  he  came 
immediately  to  propose  to  the  young  ladies  to  have  a  dance 
that  evening. 

"  But  where  are  the  gentlemen?  There  are  plenty  of  ladies, 
hut  unless  you  invite  squatters" — Rosario  began,  but  Dona 
Josefa  stopped  her  with  a  look. 

"  Let  us  see,"  said  Don  Mariano,  counting  on  his  fingers, 
"  there  are  three  or  four  Darrells,  and  six  or  eight  Alamares,  if 
my  brothers  and  half  of  my  nephews  come.  That  ought  to  be 
enough,  I  think." 

"  Plenty.  I'll  send  a  vaquero  to  aunt's  to  call  the  boys, 
and  you  bring  your  brothers  and  sisters,  Clarence,"  said  Victo- 
toriano. 

"  With  pleasure,"  was  Clarence's  reply. 

"There  will  surely  be  some  fellows  from  town  this  evening, 
and  we'll  make  them  stay,"  added  Victoriano. 

The  dance  took  place  and  was  followed  by  many  others. 
The  Alamar  family  were  very  hospitable,  and  had  many  visi 
tors,  who  were  only  too  glad  to  spend  their  evenings,  dancing 
with  charming  and  refined  young  ladies,  whose  society  was  cer 
tainly  most  attractive. 

There  were  several  young  gentlemen  from  the  Eastern  States 
stopping  at  the  principal  hotel  in  San  Diego,  and  they  came  to 
Alamar  almost  daily,  to  have  a  dance,  or  picnic,  or  musicale, 
or  a  card  party. 

These  gayeties  were  not  confined  to  the  Alamar  and  Mechlin 
and  Darrell  families,  nor  was  the  Alamar  rancho  only  made 
happy  because  Tom  Scott  was  coining.  The  entire  county  of 
San  Diego  was  buoyed  up  with  hopes  of  prosperity,  which  now 
seemed  founded  upon  a  solid  basis. 

As  for  the  town  of  San  Diego  itself,  the  dwarfed  and  stunted 
little  city,  she  went  crazy  with  joy.  Her  joy,  however,  was  not 
of  the  boisterous,  uproarious  kind,  it  was  of  a  mild  character, 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  93 

which  smiles  at  everybody,  and  takes  all  that  comes  in  good 
part,  ready  always  to  join  in  the  laugh  on  herself,  provided 
everybody  enjoys  it.  She  was  happy,  seeing  a  broad  vista  of 
coming  prosperity  in  the  near  future.  Why  not?  She  had 
every  reason  and  every  right  to  expect  that  the  Texas  Pacific 
would  be  built. 

At  last,  Col.  Scott  arrived,  and  drove  to  the  principal  hotel, 
where  a  deputation  of  the  most  prominent  citizens  immediately 
waited  on  him  to  pay  their  respects,  and  learn  his  wishes  as  to 
how  his  time  should  be  occupied  during  his  stay  in  San  Diego. 
The  city  desired  to  honor  the  distinguished  guest  with  liberal 
hospitality,  but  the  business  of  the  railroad  was  the  main  point 
in  view.  There  were  speeches  to  be  made  at  "Armory  Hall," 
with  meetings  and  consultations  to  be  had  at  nights,  besides 
drives  to  examine  the  town  site  and  surrounding  country  dur 
ing  the  day.  The  ladies  wished  to  give  him  a  ball,  but  the  bus 
iness  men  said  Tom  Scott  did  not  come  to  dance,  he  came  to 
work.  There  was  a  banquet  given  to  him,  but  no  ladies  were 
present,  only  men,  and  plenty  of  railroad  speeches.  The  ladies 
could  only  meet  him  at  private  receptions  in  the  evening,  when 
he  was  tired  out  with  driving.  Yet,  this  was  the  best  that  could 
be  done,  as  his  time  was  limited.  But  he  was  amiable,  the 
ladies  were  amiable,  and  the  gentlemen  were  amiable.  So  the 
little  city  of  San  Diego  gave  all  she  had  to  give;  all  the  lands 
that  had  belonged  to  the  old  "San  Diego  &  Gila  R.  R.  Co.," 
all  that  had  been  transferred  to  "The  Memphis  &  El  Paso  R. 
R.  Co.,"  all  the  town  lands,  water  front  and  rights  of  way  that 
could  by  any  means  be  obtained,  all  was  most  generously  prof 
fered,  adding  more  lands  than  those  originally  given  to  the 
road  under  the  old  names  of  "The  San  Diego  &  Gila  Rail 
road"  or  "The  Memphis  &  El  Paso  Railroad." 

Col.  Scott  left  well  satisfied  with  the  people  of  San  Diego, 
and  the  people  were  charmed  with  Col.  Scott.  Specu 
lation  then  ran  wild.  Town  lots  were  bought  and  sold  at  fancy 
prices,  but  in  the  madness  of  the  hour  folly  seemed  wisdom. 

Among  the  heaviest  investors,   Don   Mariano  Alamar,  Mr. 


94  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

James  Mechlin,  and  Mr.  Alfred  Holman  were  the  most  prom- 
inent.  They  bought  block  after  block  of  building  lots,  and 
only  stopped  when  their  money  was  all  invested.  Clarence 
also  bought  a  few  blocks,  and  George  and  Gabriel  risked  all 
they  dared.  Many  other  people  followed  this  (which  proved 
to  be  disastrous)  example,  and  then  all  sat  down  to  wait  for 
the  railroad  to  bring  population  and  prosperity. 
*  *  #  *•*•*'•*..* 

The  day  of  the  double  wedding  which  was  to  tie  together 
(with  a  double  loop)  the  Alamar  and  Mechlin  families,  was 
set  for  the  24th  of  May,  1873.  On  that  day  Gabriel  and 
George  would  lead  to  the  altar  their  respective  sisters,  Lizzie 
and  Elvira. 

Don  Mariano  wished  to  celebrate  that  double  wedding  in 
the  same  old-fashioned  way  in  which  his  own  had  been  solem 
nized.  He  wanted  at  least  three  days  of  good  eating  and 
drinking,  and  dancing;  to  have  noise  and  boat  racing;  to  have 
a  day's  sailing  on  the  bay,  and  a  day's  picnic  in  the  woods,  to 
which  picnic  even  the  stubborn,  hostile  squatters  should  be 
invited.  But  with  the  sole  exception  of  Victoriano,  no  one  of 
his  family  approved  this  programme. 

"I'm  afraid  my  dear  husband  that  we  are  too  closely  sur 
rounded  by  Americans  for  us  to  indulge  in  our  old-fashioned 
rejoicings,"  Dona  Josefa  said. 

"We  would  be  laughed  at,"  Carlota  added. 

"Who  cares  for  that?"  Victoriano  asked,  scornfully. 

"I  don't  believe  that  the  right  thinking  and  kind-hearted 
Americans  would  say  anything,  except  that  such  is  customary 
among  us.  But  if  George  and  Gabriel  desire  to  run  off  in  the 
steamer,  as  though  they  were  ashamed  of  matrimony,  I  say  let 
them  have  their  way.  But  they  will  have  a  wedding  that  will 
look  like  a  funeral,"  said  the  disappointed  Don  Mariano. 

"George  and  Gabriel  are  willing  to  have  their  wedding  cele 
brated  as  you  propose,  but  it  is  the  girls  that  object;  they 
wished  to  run  off  and  hide  for  a  month  in  a  fashionable  hotel 
in  San  Francisco;  afterward  they  came  to  the  conclusion  that 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  95 

they  didn't  want  to  go  to  a  hotel,  so  Gabriel  proposed  that 
they  will  take  the  steamer  that  goes  to  Mazatlan  and  Guaymas 
and  La  Paz,  thus  to  visit  all  of  those  places  on  their  wedding 
tour,"  Victoriano  said.  "As  George  had  been  wishing  to  see 
the  Mexican  coast,  this  plan  suited  all  very  well,  and  George 
has  written  to  have  the  steamer  stop  for  them  on  her  way 
south,"  Victoriano  explained,  half  apologetically,  half  resent' 
fully. 

"That  is  all  right;  if  they  are  satisfied  I  am,"  said  Don  Ma 
riano,  philosophically,  with  characteristic  amiability. 

The  steamer  running  between  San  Francisco  and  the  Mexi 
can  ports  on  the  Gulf  of  California  stopped  at  San  Diego  to 
take  the  newly  married  couples;  a  large  party  of  friends  escorted 
them  on  board. 

Don  Mariano  was  kind  and  affable  to  all,  but  many  days 
passed  before  he  became  reconciled  to  the  fact  that  the  mar 
riage  of  his  two  children  was  not  celebrated  as  his  own  had 
been,  in  the  good  old  times  of  yore. 

The  brides  and  grooms  had  been  gone  for  some  time,  and 
might  now  be  coming  back  in  a  few  days. 

"I  am  glad  we  three  are  alone,  for  there  is  something  of 
which  I  wish  to  speak  with  you  two  when  no  one  of  the  family 
is  with  us,"  said  Dona  Josefa  to  Carlota  and  Rosario,  as  they 
sat  in  their  favorite  front  veranda,  sewing. 

The  girls  looked  up,  and  casting  a  quick  glance  to  see 
whether  any  one  was  approaching,  waited  to  hear  what  their 
mother  had  to  say.  The  awnings  being  only  half  down  no  one 
could  come  from  the  outside  unobserved. 

"  What  is  it,  mamma?  "  Carlota  asked,  seeing  that  her  mother 
seemed  to  hesitate;  "anything  unpleasant?" 

"Well,  no — yes.  That  is  to  say,  to  me  it  is,  very.  Have 
you  noticed  Mercedes'  manner  lately?  She  seems  absorbed, 
silent,  thoughtful,  sad,  and — and — you  know  what  I  fear.  She 
says  she  is  not  sick,  then  it  is  some  mental  trouble,  I  am  sure. 
So,  then,  I  have  been  thinking  that  she  had  better  go  with  El 
vira  and  visit  New  York  for  a  while,  the  change  will  do  her  good, 


96  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

I  do  not  approve  of  young  girls  going  from  home  on  visits,  but 
as  she  will  go  with  her  married  sister,  and — and — I  hope  it  will 
be  for  her  good." 

"And  yet  it  may  not,"  said  Carlota. 

"Perhaps,  if  it  is  as  you1— as  we  three — fear,  absence  might 
be  worse  for  her,"  added  Rosario;  "Mercedes  is  very  gen 
tle,  but  she  is  very  loving  and  constant,  so  it  might  do  more 
harm  than  good  to  send  her  away  now.  Remember  what  the 
poet  says  about  it : 

'  La  ausencia  es  para  el  amor 
Lo  que  el  aire  para  el  fuego; 
Si  es  poco,  lo  apaga  luego, 
Si  es  grancle,  lo  hace  mayor. ' 

and  I  fear  that  Mercedes  is  too  deeply  incerested  already." 

"That  is  so.  Have  you  spoken  to  papa  about  it?"  Carlota 
asked. 

"I  mentioned  it  only  once,  knowing  his  partiality  to  Clar 
ence,"  Dona  Josefa  replied. 

"He  might  be  partial,  but  when  it  comes  to  the  danger  of 
his  daughter's  marrying  a  squatter  I  should  think  there  would 
be  a  limit  to  partiality,"  Carlota  said,  warmly. 

"I  fear  your  father  views  the  matter  differently.  The  one 
time  I  mentioned  to  him  that  Clarence  seemed  to  be  more  and 
more  in  love  with  Mercedes,  and  my  fear  that  she  also  liked 
him  more  than  I  care  to  believe.  He  said,  *  Has  he  made  love 
or  proposed  to  her?'  I  told  him  I  hoped  he  had  not  been  so 
audacious  as  that.  'Audacious!'  said  he,  and  laughed.  '  I  tell 
you,  wife,  if  all  that  is  necessary  for  Clarence  to  propose  be 
courage,  neither  you  nor  I  can  stop  him,  for  the  boy  is  no  cow 
ard.  I  reckon  that  it  is  Mercedes  herself  who  gives  him  no 
encouragement;  that  is  what  deters  him,  but  none  of  our  san- 
gre  azulj  and  he  laughed  again.  I  said  to  him,  you  take  very 
coolly  a  matter  that  might  be  a  question  of  our  child's  fate  for 
life,  but  he  only  appeared  amused  at  my  anxiety.  He  said: 
'Don't  borrow  trouble;  Clarence  is  a  most  excellent  young 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  97 

fellow — bright,  energetic  and  honorable.  Don't  bother  them 
or  yourself;  if  they  feel  true  love  they  have  a  right  to  it.  Trust 
him,  he  is  all. right.'" 

"  But  a  squatter !  The  idea  of  an  Alamar  marrying  a  squat 
ter!  For  squatters  they  are,  though  we  dance  with  them,"  Car- 
lota  said.  "I  am  shocked  at  papa's  partiality.  I  must  say  yes, 
mamma,  send  poor  Mercita  away." 

"Yes;  with  all  due  respect  to  papa,  I  fear  I  will  not  be  re 
conciled  to  the  idea  of  Mercedes  being  a  daughter-in-law  of  old 
Darrell,"  Rosario  said,  with  a  shudder. 

"Neither  could  I,"  added  Carlota. 

And  thus  felt  and  thus  reasoned  these  proud  ladies  in  those 
days.  For  although  the  shadows  of  black  clouds  were  falling 
all  around,  they  had  not  observed  them,  or  suspected  their 
proximity;  they  held  up  their  heads  proudly. 

"And  has  Clarence  the  means  of  supporting  a  wife?"  Rosario 
asked.  "That  is  another  question  to  be  considered." 

"I  don't  know.  I  heard  he  had  made  money  in  stocks,  but 
I  don't  know  how  much,"  Dona  Josefa  replied. 

"  I  have  no  faith  in  stocks,"  said  Carlota. 

"Let  us  not  mention  this  to  Mercedes  yet.  When  Elvira 
returns  we  will  consult  with  her,"  Dona  Josefa  said. 

Nothing  was  said  to  Mercedes  about  her  journey,  but  she  was 
never  allowed  to  see  Clarence  alone. 

Elvira  returned,  and  the  project  mentioned  to  her.  She,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  having  her 
favorite  sister  with  her.  The  pain  of  leaving  her  home  would 
be  lessened  in  her  company. 

A  day  or  two  after,  when  Elvira  was  alone  in  her  room,  Mer 
cedes  came  in,  looking  rather  pale,  and  letting  herself  drop  into 
the  first  chair  she  came  to,  said : 

"What  is  this  unexpected  news  about  my  going  to  New  York 
with  you?" 

"Good  news,  I  think.     Don't  you  like  it  ?  " 

"Certainly.  But  it  is  too  sudden.  Why  hadn't  mamma  thought 
of  it  before?" 


98  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

"Because  she  did  not  think  your  health  required  any  change." 

"  I  tell  you  what,  mamma  alarms  herself  unnecessarily,  and 
puts  but  poor  reliance  on  me.  I  understand  it  all,  but  as  a  trip 
to  New  York  is  a  most  delightful  medicine,  I  am  willing  to 
take  it,  and  that  she  should  consider  my  health  in  a  precarious 
state." 

"But  you  do  look  pale  and  thin,  Mercita." 

"Nonsense!"  Mercedes  exclaimed.  "I  have  been  keeping 
late  hours,  and  dancing  too  much.  If  I  go  to  bed  early  I 
shall  get  back  my  good  color  and  flesh  again.  However,  I 
am  glad  to  play  the  invalid  until  I  get  on  board  the  cars." 

"Very  well.  I'll  be  alarmed  for  you,  too,  until  we  get 
off." 

Mercedes  laughed,  and  went  to  her  room  singing,  but  once 
there  her  gayety  vanished.  She  locked  her  door,  and  threw 
herself  on  the  bed,  burying  her  face  in  her  pillow  to  stifle 
her  sobs. 

"Can  anything  tear  his  image  from  my  heart?  No.  Noth 
ing  !  nothing !  They  may  send  me  away  to  the  other  end  of 
the  world,  they  shall  not  part  us,  for  you  will  still  fill  my  heart, 
my  own  darling,  holding  my  very  soul  forever  in  full  possession." 

Mercedes,  being  not  quite  seventeen,  her  grief  at  parting  from 
Clarence  was  wild,  vehement  and  all-absorbing.  But  she  had 
been  trained  to  obedience,  and  her  battles  with  the  spirit  always 
took  place  after  she  carefully  locked  her  bedroom  door.  Then 
Clarence  was  wildly  apostrophized,  and  a  torrent  of  tears  re 
lieved  the  overcharged,  aching  heart. 

The  day  of  departure  arrived,  and  she  had  not  had  one  min 
ute's  conversation  alone  with  Clarence. 


CHAPTER  X. 

BUT  CLARENCE  MUST  NOT  BE  ENCOURAGED. 

The  wharf  was  over-crowded.  The  steamer  was  about  to 
leave.  The  last  car-load  of  baggage  had  been  quickly 
shipped,  and  Clarence  had  not  been  able  to  say  a  word  to 
Mercedes  which  might  not  have  been  heard  by  the  persons 
surrounding  her.  He  was  pale  and  desperate.  He  had  gone 
on  board  the  steamer  just  to  ask  her  one  question,  but  she  had 
never  been  alone  for  an  instant.  And  thus  they  must  part, — 
for  the  embodied  "  Fuerza  del  destino"  now  came  in  the  shape 
of  a  boy  clanging  in  deafening  clatter  a  most  discordant  bell, 
saying  that  those  who  were  not  .going  on  the  steamer  must  go 
ashore.  A  hurried  hand-shaking,  and  the  troop  of  friends 
marched  down  the  gang-plank  to  turn  round  and  look  many 
more  tender  adieus  from  the  wharf. 

Don  Mariano  had  observed  Clarence's  deathly  palor,  and 
how  faithfully  it  was  reflected  on  Mercedes'  face ;  he  saw  the 
unhappy  young  man  standing  aloof  from  the  crowd  on  the  ex 
treme  edge  of  the  wharf.  He  went  to  him,  and  laying  his  hand 
gently  on  his  shoulder,  said  : 

"That  position  is  dangerous— you  might  lose  your  balance," 
and  he  pulled  him  gently  away.  "You  are  very  pale.  I  fear, 
my  dear  boy,  that  you  are  more  troubled  than  you  have  admitted 
to  any  one.  What  is  it  ?  Tell  me." 

Clarence  shook  his  head,  but  suppressing  his  emotion,  said : 

"I  cannot  express  my  misery.  She  is  sent  away  that  I  may 
not  even  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her.  No  one  can  love  her 
as  I  do,  impossible  ! " 

"Why  have  you  not  spoken  to  me  of  this  before?"  asked 
Don  Mariano,  kindly. 


100  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"  Because  I  did  not  dare.  I  thought  of  doing  so  a  thousand 
times,  but  did  not  dare.  I  did  not  fear  unkindness  or  rejec 
tion  from  you,  but  from  Doiia  Josefa  and  the  young  ladies  I 
did,  and  I  have  never  had  an  opportunity  to  speak  alone  to 
Miss  Mercedes." 

"That  was  an  additional  reason  for  speaking  to  me.  Cheer 
up.  '  Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady.'" 

"  Tell  me  that  again.  Say  you  do  not  reject  me,  and  I'll 
jump  aboard  and  follow  her." 

"I  do  not  reject  you,  and  I  repeat  what  "I  said,  follow  her  if 
you  wish,  and  try  your  luck.  I  want  to  see  you  both  happy, 
and  both  of  you  are  very  unhappy." 

Clarence  looked  toward  the  boat.  The  gang-plank  had 
been  removed. 

"What  a  happy  girl  you  are,  Mercedes,  to  visit  New 
York.  How  I  wish  I,  too,  could  go,"  he  heard  Corina  Hoi- 
man  'say. 

"  Come  on,  it  is  not  too  late  yet,"  George  replied. 

Clarence  looked  up,  and  met  Mercedes'  eyes.  It  seemed  as 
if  George's  words  were  intended  for  him. 

He  clasped  Don  Mariano's  hand,  saying  hurriedly : 

"  If  I  understand  you,  I  have  your  permission  to  go.  May 
I?  Tell  me 'yes.'" 

"'  Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady  j"  he  repeated,  smiling, 
and  returning  the  warm  pressure  of  his  hand,  added  :  "Yes,  go 
and  try  your  luck," 

Clarence  turned,  and  without  another  word  quickly  made  his 
way  through  the  crowd. 

The  steamer's  wheels  began  to  move;  the  captain  was  already 
on  the  bridge,  over  the  starboard  wheel,  and  had  given  the 
order  to  let  go  the  hawsers.  In  another  instant  the  steamer 
would  leave  the  wharf. 

Clarence  felt  himself  pulled  by  the  arm,  he  turned  impa 
tiently,  and  met  Everett,  who  handed  him  two  telegrams, 
saying : 

"  I  have  looked  for  you  everywhere.  These  telegrams  fol 
lowed  each  other  quickly." 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  IOI 

"Yes,  I  know,"  Clarence  said,  taking  them;  adding,  with 
out  stopping  his  hurried  walking,  "  Retty,  I  am  going.  Tell 
them  at  home  I  got  three  telegrams  calling  me  to  San  Fran 
cisco." 

"  But  you  haven't  read  them,"  urged  Everett,  trying  to  fol 
low  him. 

"  But  I  know  what  they  are  ;  I  have  another  in  my  pocket." 

Lifting  his  arm  with  the  telegrams  in  his  hand,  he  said  to 
the  captain : 

"  Captain,  one  moment.  I  must  go  north.  Please  take 
me." 

The  captain  did  not  hear  him,  and  at  the  same  time  called 
out: 

"  Let  go  that  hawser !     Do  you  want  it  to  snap  ?  " 

The  crowd  ran  off,  giving  a  wide  berth  to  the  heavy  rope, 
which  now,  by  its  own  tension,  made  it  impossible  to  be 
slipped  off  the  pile,  although  many  pairs  of  hands  were  tug 
ging  at  it  manfully. 

The  stern  expression  of  the  captain's  face  softened  as  he  saw 
Clarence  standing  on  the  brink  of  the  wharf. 

"  Step  back,  Mr.  Darrell,  quickly,  the  rope  might  part,"  said 
he ;  but  noticing  that  Clarence  desired  to  speak  to  him,  mo 
tioned  to  the  first  officer  to  take  his  place,  and  ran  down  to  hear 
what  Clarence  said. 

A  minute  after  the  steamer  stood  still  for  an  instant,  then  the 
wheels  began  to  revolve  in  reversed  motion. 

"There  she  is,  Mr.  Darrell;  she'll  be  alongside  in  a  min 
ute,"  the  captain  said,  pleased  with  the  opportunity  to  oblige 
Clarence. 

And  the  steamer,  propelled  by  one  wheel,  began  to  back 
as  if  with  the  side-long  motion  of  a  highly  intelligent  crab  who 
understood  the  situation. 

"Read  your  telegrams,"  Everett  repeated. 

"All  right — to  please  you,"  said  Clarence,  tearing  them  open. 
Adding,  after  reading  a  few  words,  "It  is  as  I  expected.  I  am 
wanted  by  Hubert.  Send  him  a  dispatch  to-night  saying 


102  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

I  left,  and-  to  accept  M.'s  offer,  and  pay  the  money  at 
once." 

"Now,  Mr.  Darrell,  come  on,"  the  captain  said. 

Hurriedly  Clarence  shook  hands  with  Don  Mariano,  Gabriel, 
Everett  and  Victoriano. 

"Take  care,  jump  in  on  the  downward  swing,  when  about 
on  a  level  with  the  wharf,"  said  Gabriel. 

Clarence  nodded,  gave  him  his  hand,  and  planting  his  foot 
firmly  on  the  wharf,  gave  one  spring,  and  wiry  as  a  cat,  alight 
ed  on  the  steamer  beside  the  captain,  who  hugged  him,  saying : 

"Bravo,  my  boy,  I  could  have  done  that  twenty  years  ago." 

Don  Mariano  and  Gabriel  lifted  their  hats  in  congratulatory 
salutation;  Victoriano  and  Everett  twirled  theirs  in  the  air  hur 
rahing;  the  ladies  waved  their  handkerchiefs,  and  the  steamer 
giving  a  dip  and  a  plunge— by  way  of  a  very  low  courtesy — 
bounded  up  and  started  onwards,  as  if  satisfied  she  had  been 
good  natured  long  enough,  and  now  must  attend  to  business. 
In  a  few  minutes  she  had  made  up  for  lost  time,  and  was 
heading  for  Ballast  Point,  leaving  San  Diego's  shore  to  be 
merged  into  the  blue  hills  of  Mexico  beyond,  as  if  obeying 
the  immutable  law  which  says  that  all  things  must  revert  to 
their  original  source. 

Elvira's  beautiful  eyes  were  so  filled  with  tears  that  she  could 
see  nothing.  Still,  she  kept  her  gaze  riveted  upon  that  fast 
receding  wharf.  George  stood  a  few  feet  apart,  prudently 
thinking  that  the  two  sisters  would  perhaps  prefer  to  be  by 
themselves  while  taking  their  last  look  at  the  dear  ones  stand 
ing  on  the  wharf.  He,  too,  felt  much  moved ;  he  would  have 
preferred  to  remain  with  his  family  at  Alamar.  He  would 
come  next  year — he  thought — and  perhaps  remain  in  Califor 
nia  permanently.  With  this  thought  in  his  mind,  almost  shaped 
into  resolve,  he  came  to  Elvira's  side,  and  quietly  slipping  his 
arm  round  her  waist,  said  : 

"Don't  cry,  sweetest,  I  will  bring  you  back  next  year,  and 
we  will  make  our  home  near  our  parents.  No  matter  if  I 
make  less  money,  we  will  have  more  happiness." 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  103 

Elvira  looked  unutterable  thanks. 

"Do  you  hear  him,  Mercedes?"  she  said,  and  Mercedes 
nodded,  but  moved  a  little  further  off,  not  yet  trusting  her 
voice  to  make  any  reply. 

"Look  here,  this  won't  do;  this  will  spoil  our  blue  eyes," 
said  George,  putting  his  other  arm  around  Mercedes'  pretty 
shoulders.  "I  insist  upon  you  turning  your  thoughts  toward 
New  York,  Long  Branch,  Newport  and  Washington;  think  of 
all  the  fun  we  will  have  visiting  all  those  places.  Then  we 
will  come  back  gay  and  happy,  and  our  dear  ones  will  be  so 
glad  to  see  us  again.  Think  of  all  that,"  and  thus  George  ex 
erted  his  eloquence  to  administer  consolation.  "I  am  sure  all 
at  home  will  be  thinking  of  our  return  by  to-morrow  morn 
ing,"  he  added,  by  way  of  climax  to  his  consoling  rhetoric. 

But  George  was  mistaken.  The  Alamar  ladies  found  it  very 
hard  and  difficult  to  reconcile  themselves  to  be  separated  from 
Elvira  and  Mercedes. 

The  fact  that  Clarence  had  gone  in  the  same  steamer,  added 
much  bitterness  to  Dona  Josefa's  sorrow  at  separating  from 
both  daughters.  She  did  not  even  wish  any  one  to  mention 
Clarence's  name  in  her  presence.  Don  Mariano's  arguments 
in  favor  of  the  bold  young  man  were  at  first  ineffectual,  but 
after  a  while  she  began  to  think  that  she  ought  to  trust  more 
in  Mercedes'  pride  and  Elvira's  vigilance. 

In  the  meantime  the  travelers  continued  their  voyage  very 
happily.  Clarence  rightly  conjectured  that  Mercedes  would 
suppose  he  had  followed  her  to  declare  his  love,  and  this  sup-, 
position  would  redouble  her  shyness.  Her  manner  at  first, 
fully  confirmed  this  surmise,  so,  to  put  her  at  her  ease,  he  was 
very  kind  and  attentive,  but  never  betrayed  by  word  or  look, 
his  heart's  devotion.  His  manner  was  exactly  all  that  she  could 
wish,  the  behavior  of  a  devoted  brother,  and  in  consequence 
she  began  to  be  less  shy.  He  spoke  of  having  received  three 
telegrams,  calling  him  north;  this  surely  was  a  good  reason  for 
his  unexpected  journey. 

They  visited  Los  Angeles,  went  ashore  at  Port  Harford  and 


104  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

Santa  Barbara,  and  as  George  was  naturally  devoted  to  his 
bride,  there  seemed  no  alternative  for  Mercedes  but  to  accept 
Clarence's  escort,  and  lean  on  his  arm  whenever  that  operation 
became  necessary. 

The  nights  were  lovely,  with  a  full  moon  in  the  azure  sky, 
and  the  sea  air,  neither  cold  nor  warm,  but  of  that  California 
temperature,  which  seems  to  invite  people  to  be  happy,  giving 
to  all  an  idea  of  the  perfect  well-being  we  expect  to  find  in  the 
hereafter. 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  freight  to  be  landed  at  Santa 
Barbara.  The  passengers  going  to  San  Francisco  were  already 
onboard.  Still"  the  steamer  tarried.  Some  lady  friends  of 
Elvira,  who  were  going  north  had  come  aboard,  and  as  they 
had  much  to  say,  took  her  away  to  their  staterooms. 

"Wait  for  me  here,  I'll  return  in  half  an  hour,"  said  she  to 
George ;  but  he  thought  he  knew  how  ladies  measure  time 
when  engaged  in  talking,  so  he  slowly  arose  and  said  he  would 
go  to  play  cribbage  with  the  captain. 

The  steamer  now  shivered  and  trembled,  as  if  awakening 
from  a  nice  nap.  The  wheels  revolved  lazily  and  then  she  was 
off,  dragging  a  luminous  wake  of  myriads  of  evanescent  dia 
monds. 

"If  you  wish  to  go,  Mr.  Darrell,  please  do  so;  do  not  re 
main  on  my  account,"  said  Mercedes,  when  George  rose  to  go. 

"Not  at  all.  I  remain  entirely  on  my  own,  as  I  do 
not  particularly  desire  to  play  cut-throat  cribbage,  and  as  it  is 
too  early  for  you  to  retire,  suppose  you  permit  me  to  remain 
until  your  sister  returns." 

"Certainly,  do  so,  else  I'll  stay,"  said  George,  going. 

"Have  I  offended  you  in  any  way?"  Clarence  asked. 

"No,  of  course  not.  What  a  question.  What  makes  you 
ask  that?" 

"Because  you  must  know  it  would  be  cruel  punishment  to 
send  me  off." 

"I  didn't  think  anything  of  the  kind,  only  I  didn't  wish  to 
be  selfish  and  keep  you  from  going  if  you  wished  it." 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  105 

"How  could  I  wish  to  go  anywhere  and  leave  you;  I  would 
not  go  to  heaven,  if  to  do  so  I  would  have  to  renounce  you." 

"Please  do  not  talk  like  that,  some  one  might  hear  you." 

"There  is  not  a  soul  within  hearing.  Our  only  witness  is 
that  lovely  moon,  and  she  will  not  betray." 

"No  matter,  please  do  not  speak  like  that." 

"Like  what?  That  I  love  you?  I  have  never  yet  said  it  in 
words,  but  you  know  it." 

"Oh!     Mr.  Darrell!" 

"Yes,  you  know  it,  and  to  avoid  me  you  are  going  away; 
going  from  me,  no  matter  if  it  killed  me." 

"It  is  not  my  choice,  I  only  obey,"  said  she,  clasping  her 
trembling  hands,  now  cold  as  ice. 

"Is  it  so?     Did  you  not  wish  to  avoid  me?" 

"Please  do  not  ask  me,  you'll  make  me  very  miserable." 

"I  would  not  cause  you  one  single  pang,  if  to  avoid  it  I  had  to 
die.  Believe  me,  all  I  wish  to  know  is,  whether  I  have  been 
so  blind  as  not  to  see  your  dislike;  whether  it  was  your  own 
choice  to  go,  or  you  were  compelled  to  do  so  by  your 
mother?" 

"Please  don't  blame  mamma." 

"  I  do  not  blame  her  in  the  least.  She  has  a  perfect  right 
to  object  to  me  if  she  wishes,  but  I  too,  have  at  least,  the  sad 
privilege  of  asking  whether  you  also  object  to  me?" 

"I  have  nothing  against  you;  I  like  you  very  much,  as — as 
a  friend,"  she  said,  trembling,  painfully  agitated. 

Clarence  laughed  a  hoarse,  discordant  laugh  that  made  her 
feel  miserable. 

"I  have  been  told  that  young  ladies  say  that  always,  when 
they  mean  to  let  down  easily  a  poor  devil  whom  they  pity  and 
perhaps  despise.  Thanks,  Miss  Mercedes,  for  liking  me  'as  a 
friend,'  thank  you.  Perhaps  I  am  a  presumptuous  fool  to  love 
you,  but  love  you  I  must,  for  I  can  not  help  it." 

He  stood  up  and  looked  down  at  the  dark  ocean  in  silence. 
She  looked  up  to  his  face  and  her  beautiful  features  looked  so 
pleadingly  sad,  that  he  forgot  his  own  misery  and  thought  only 
of  the  pain  those  superb  eyes  revealed. 


IO6  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

He  seated  himself  very  near  her,  and  took  both  of  her  hands 
in  his  own.  Surely  there  was  something  troubling  her. 

"How  cold  these  dear  little  hands  are.  Have  I  caused  you 
pain?"  he  asked.  She  nodded  but  did  not  speak. 

"Yes,  I  have  pained  you,  when  I  would  give  my  heart's 
blood  to  make  you  happy.  Oh !  Mercedes,  I  cannot  give  you 
up,  it  is  impossible  while  I  live.  Do  you  command  me  to  do 
so?  Do  you  wish  it?  You  know  that  I  have  loved  you  from 
the  first  moment  I  saw  you ;  when  I  lifted  you  in  my  arms. 
The  exquisite  pleasure  I  felt  then,  and  the  yearning  I  have 
felt  ever  since,  to  hold  you  in  my  arms  again,  as  my  own  sweet 
wife,  that  longing  tells  me  incessantly  that  I  can  never  love 
any  one  else;  that  I  must  win  you  or  renounce  love  forever  on 
earth.  Tell  me,  will  you  cruelly  repel  me?  " 

She  was  silent,  listening  with  averted  face,  as  if  afraid  to 
meet  his  gaze,  but  she  did  not  withdraw  her  hands,  which  he 
still  held  in  both  his  own,  as  if  he  would  never  willingly  re 
lease  them  again. 

"Mercedes,  say  that  you  reject  me  only  to  obey  your  mother, 
and  I  will  not  despair,  for  I  know  that  your  father  does  not 
object  to  me;  on  the  contrary,  he  sanctions  my  love,  he  would 
accept  me  as  his  son-in-law." 

She  turned  quickly,  gazed  at  him  with  an  eager,  inquiring 
look. 

"Yes,  he  gave  me  permission  to  follow  you  and  ask  you  to 
be  my  wife." 

"What?     He?     My  papa  did  that?" 

"Yes.  When  he  saw  me  looking  so  wretched  with  the  pain 
of  parting  from  you,  he  said  to  me,  'Cheer  up;  faint  heart 
never  won  fair  lady.'  I  said  to  him,  if  you  tell  me  that  in 
earnest,  I'll  jump  aboard  the  steamer  and  follow  her.  He  re 
peated  the  quotation,  adding:  'Go  and  try  your  luck.'  Is  not 
that  sufficient?" 

"Darling  papa,  he  is  so  kind,"  she  said,  eluding  Clarence's 
question,  but  her  evident  gratitude  toward  her  father  spoke 
volumes^ 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE    DON.  107 

"Indeed  he  is.  His  heart  is  full  of  nobility.  He  does  not 
permit  unjust  prejudices  to  influence  him  into  dislikes." 

"You  must  not  blame  my  poor  mamma.  She  thinks  you 
did  some  wrong  act,  but  she  is  not  prejudiced  against  you,  nor 
does  she  dislike  you." 

"I  did  some  wrong  act?     What  is  it?     When?  " 

"That  I  couldn't  tell  you,  for  I  do  not  know,  and  perhaps  I 
am  wrong  to  have  said  so  much.  But  I  spoke  because  it  was 
painful  to  me  to  think  that  you  believe  my  own  loving,  lovely 
mamma  prejudiced,  for  she  is  not.  She  might  be  mistaken, 
but  she  is  kindness  itself." 

Clarence  mentally  demurred  to  this  warm  praise,  but  wisely 
held  his  peace. 

"Promise  me  you  will  not  think  mamma  is  prejudiced,"  said 
she,  without  the  least  suspicion  of  the  tyranny,  the  unreason 
ableness  of  such  a  request. 

"I  promise  it,  of  course,  if  you  desire  it,  but  I  would  at 
the  same  time,  like  to  know  what  is  the  wrong  act  of  which  I 
am  accused,  that  has  brought  upon  me  her  censure.  I  assure 
you  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea;  I  think  my  record  as  an 
honest  man  can  well  bear  scrutiny.  Can  it  be  that  I  have 
made  money  in  mining  stocks?" 

"Oh,  no.  She  does  not  know  that,  and  if  she  did,  she 
would  not  think  it  wrong,  for  she  knows  nothing  about  stocks." 

"Then  I  vow  I  have  not  the  remotest  idea  of  what  it  is." 

"Think  no  more  about  it  now,  and  when  you  return,  you 
ask  papa.  He  will  soon  find  out  the  mistake  and  vindicate 
you." 

"Yes,  he  will  do  so  I  am  sure.  I  would  blindly  trust  my 
life  and  honor  in  his  hands,"  said  he,  warmly,  and  quick  as  a 
flash  came  his  reward,  for  she  pressed  his  hands  most  grate 
fully.  "Ah!  Mercedes  why  did  you  do  that?"  The  poor 
young  man  was  trying  to  make  up  his  mind  not  to  press  his 
suit  until  he  had  been  vindicated,  and  Dona  Josefa  had 
nothing  against  him.  But  that  pressure  made  him  ambitious, 
impatient;  he  wished  to  have  some  promise  that  she  would 


108  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

not  accept  any  one  else's  suit.  She  was  going  from  him,  out  of 
his  sight.  He  was  certain  that  dozens,  yes  hundreds,  would 
fall  in  love  with  her  as  soon  as  they  saw  her.  Would  she  not 
love  some  one?  It  would  be  natural  to  prefer  to  him,  some 
of  those  elegant  New  Yorkers,  or  some  fascinating  foreigner 
whom  she  might  meet  in  Washington.  This  thought  made  him 
wretched. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  appreciate  papa,"  said  she,  withdrawing 
her  hands,  which  she  considered  he  had  held  long  enough. 
Noticing  that  he  looked  troubled,  and  that  his  hand  trembled, 
she  added:  "I  fear  I  have  been  indiscreet,  and  have  caused 
you  pain  by  what  I  said ;  if  so,  I  am  very  sorry.  Have  I 
pained  you?" 

"I  have  never  done  anything  dishonorable.  I  can  prove  that 
to  Dona  Josefa  at  any  time.  But " — he  broke  off,  and  after  a 
paused,  added :  "  Oh  !  Mercedes  !  how  wretched  I  shall  be, 
thinking  that  you  might  love  some  one  else.  Is  not  your  re 
fusal  to  give  me  any  encouragement  a  proof  that  you  feel  you 
never  can  care  for  me  ?  " 

"  Please  don't  say  that.  I  do  care  for  you.  That  is,  I  mean,  I 
ought  not  to  tell  you  so,  but — but " — she  did  not  finish,  for  the 
rash  young  man  had  again  seized  her  little  hands,  and  was 
covering  them  with  kisses,  forgetting  that  any  passenger 
had  the  right  to  come  and  sit  there  on  the  same  bench  to 
enjoy  the  silvery  moonlight,  sailing  over  the  broad,  sublime 
Pacific. 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Darrell !  Don't  do  that.  Please  let  us  go 
now  to  call  Elvira.  She  thinks  George  is  with  me,"  she  said, 
rising. 

"We  don't  want  Elvira,  we  don't  want  George.  Let  them 
be.  Why  do  you  grudge  me  this  happiness  of  being  alone 
with  you  for  the  first  and,  perhaps,  for  the  last  time  in  my  life? 
Please  sit  down.  I  will  behave  myself.  I  will  not  kiss  your 
hands,  I  promise;  but  won't  you  reward  my  self-restraint  by 
answering  one  question?" 

"  What  is  the  question  ?  "  said  she,  sitting  down  again,  only 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  log 

a  little  further  off;  "tell  me,  and  then  we  must  go  to  find 
Elvira." 

"I  want  you  to  tell  me — I  mean,  I  beg  and  entreat  you  to 
tell  me  this — if  I  can  prove  that  I  have  never  done  any 
thing  dishonorable,  and  your  mother  ceases  to  object  to  my 
marrying  you,  will  you  then  consent  to  be  my  wife  ?  " 

The  question  gave  Mercedes  exquisite  pleasure,  for  she  loved 
him  with  all  her  heart.  The  word  wife  soundly  so  sweetly  com 
ing  from  his  lips,  but  she  had  promised  her  mother  "not to  en 
courage  him"  So  she  must  not.  It  would  be  dishonorable  to 
break  her  word.  What  could  she  say,  not  to  make  him  un 
happy,  and  yet  not  commit  the  sin  of  disobedience  to  her 
mother's  command? 

She  looked  down,  and  her  expressive  features  again  showed 
that  she  was  troubled. 

"  Oh  !  I  was  mistaken.  Your  silence  tells  me  I  cannot 
hope." 

"  Do  not  be  impatient,  please.  I  was  trying  to  think  how  I 
could  explain  to  you  my  position." 

"  Your  position  ?  " 

"  Yes.  How  much  what  papa  said  to  you  might  alter  things. 
But  I  cannot  see  how  I  can  say  anything  to  you,  except  to  be 
patient.  Yes,  let  us  both  be  patient." 

"  Patience  and  despair  do  not  travel  together." 

"  Discard  despair,  and  trust  to  patience,  and  " — she  was  go 
ing  to  say,  "  trust  me,"  but  remembered  her  mother's  com 
mands,  and  that  to  say  so  much  even  would  be  to  encourage 
him.  She  was  silent.  She  could  have  rejected  an  offer  of 
marriage  easily  without  taking  away  all  hope,  but  as  she 
"  must  not  encourage  him"  that  was  the  most  difficult  dilemma 
for  the  poor  girl.  "Trust  to  papa,  and — and  do  not  be  blam 
ing  me  in  your  heart.  I  cannot  bear  that." 

"I  shall  not  blame  you.  I  shall  do  whatever  you  order 
me.  But  at  all  times  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  he, 
sadly. 

"It  is  because  my  position  is  so — so  difficult,  so  unnatural. 


HO  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

I  wish  you  could  understand  it  without  my  explaining  it.  Can't 
you?" 

"  I'll  try,"  said  he,  in  most  dejected  tones,  again  thinking  of 
the  elegant  New  Yorkers,  and  fascinating  Washingtonians,  on 
their  knees  before  her.  "  But  I  do  not  understand  why  you 
refuse  me  one  word  of  encouragement." 

"Oh!  that  is  just  the  word  I  cannot  give,"  she  sighed. 

"  This  is  all  the  work  of  Dpfia  Josefa,"  thought  he,  and  the 
form  of  the  handsome  matron  seemed  to  rise  before  him 
from  the  billows  of  the  Pacific,  and  stand  with  Juno's  lofty 
majesty  in  severe  impassibility  before  his  sad  gaze. 

Mercedes,  too,  was  looking  at  the  immense  sea,  as  if  trying 
to  discover  in  that  vast  expanse  some  consoling  words  that 
a  good,  obedient  daughter  might  speak  on  such  an  occasion. 


CHAPTER  XL 

GEORGE  is  A  CHRISTIAN  GENTLEMAN. 

In  vain  did  Mercedes  scan  the  broad  bosom  of  the  Pacific 
Ocean  in  search  of  something  to  say  that  would  be  soothing  to 
Clarence's  feelings,  very  proper  for  her  to  utter,  and  very  ac 
ceptable  to  her  mamma's  sentiments,  had  she  been  there  to 
hear  it.  But  that  vast  sea  was  dark  and  mute.  It  did  not 
respond.  It  only  made  her  shudder  to  think  of  its  awful 
silence  that  was  so  solemn,  but  not  in  the  least  comforting. 
It  was  so  dark,  so  limitless,  so  cold.  She  turned  her  eyes  to 
the  luminous  wake  trailed  by  the  steamer  where  such  wealth 
of  diamonds  was  wasted.  "Fitful  scintillations  and  then  all 
lost  in  gloom,"  she  said,  adding:  "No,  all  is  not  wasted,  those 
bright  diamonds  are  not  as  evanescent  as  we,  they  will  sink, 
but  reappear  again  and  remain  there  always  to  gladden  or 
amuse  poor  travelers  for  ages  to  come ;  yes,  when  our  two  poor 
hearts  have  ceased  forever  to  throb  with  joy  or  pain." 

"Is  it  not,  then,  wrong  when  life  is  so  flitting  to  refuse  pure 
and  holy  happiness  which  God  has  permitted  to  the  children 
of  man?" 

"We  will  be  talking  bookish,  like  Corina  Holman,  if  we  sit 
here  alone  with  the  silent  Pacific.  Let  us  go  to  find  Elvira," 
said  she,  rising.  "Ah,  there  she  is  now!" 

Elvira  was  bidding  good  night  to  her  two  lady  friends  who 
stood  at  the  door  of  their  state-room,  and  (as  all  ladies  must) 
had  something  very  interesting  to  say  at  the  last  moment. 

"And  so  I  am  to  be  patient  whether  there  is  hope  or  not," 
said  Clarence. 

"You  said  you  would  speak  with  papa.  You  forget  how 
very  kind  he  is  to  everybody  in  general,  and  how  partial  to  you 
in  particular." 


112  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"Yes,  he  is  most  generous,  almost  too  noble  for  this  world." 

"I  have  often  thought  that,  but  as  he  is  past  fifty,  I  trust 
that  a  kind  Providence  will  spare  him  to  us  for  many  years 
yet." 

"Of  course,  he  will  be  spared  to  you.  If  no  good  man  could 
live,  then  the  gift  of  life  would  be  a  brand  upon  man's  fore 
head.  But  a  character  as  his,  is  truly  very  rare.  He  comes 
nearer  to  my  standard  of  excellence  than  any  other  man  I  ever 
saw,  and  I  revere  and  love  him  for  it." 

"I  shall  treasure  those  words  in  my  heart,  believe  me.  Let 
them  remain  there  forever,"  she  said,  her  voice  vibrating  with 
emotion. 

"Well,  well,  and  where  is  George?"  said  Elvira,  looking 
around  for  her  missing  husband. 

"He  went  to  the  captain's  room  to  play  cribbage  about  two 
minutes  after  you  left,"  said  Mercedes. 

"Good  chaperone  he  is;  and  what  have  you  been  talking 
about  here  like  two  little  owls  who  know  they  musn't  jump  into 
the  water  because  they  are  not  ducks?" 

"One  isn't,  any  way,"  Clarence  said,  smiling. 

"As  my  married  experience  is  yet  fresh  and  limited,  I  don't 
know  whether  it  would  be  proper  or  not  for  us  three  to  take  a 
turn  on  deck  and  see  whether  George  is  enjoying  himself. 
What  do  you  think,  Mr.  Darrell,  would  a  husband  object  to 
that?" 

"I  should  say  not.  Why  should  he?  To  my  way  of  think 
ing  no  husband  of  ordinary  good  sense  could  object  to  his  wife 
showing  that  interest  in  him.  Mr.  Mechlin  will  not,  I  am 
sure." 

"Let  Mr.  Darrell  take  a  look  first,"  suggested  Mercedes. 

Clarence  arose  to  go,  Elvira  said :  "Only  pass  by,  as  if  by 
accident,  and  we'll  go  or  not,  according  to  circumstances." 

When  Clarence  had  gone  beyond  hearing,  Elvira  said : 

"He  looks  pale  again,  have  you  made  him  unhappy?" 

"I  have  not  made  him  happy,  that  is  sure,  and  I  am  miser 
able,  but  you  know  mamma's  feelings,  what  can  I  do?  Oh, 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  113 

what  can  I  do?"  said  she,  putting  her  arms  around  her  sister 
and  the  hot  tears  she  had  been  repressing  flowed  fast.  "I  am 
so  sorry  I  have  to  make  him  so  unhappy." 

"I  must  say  I  feel  sorry  for  him  myself.  I  am  not  sure  that 
mamma  does  him  justice,"  Elvira  observed  reflectively. 

"And  to  think  that  papa  himself  told  him  to  follow  me." 

"Is  that  so?" 

"Yes;  and  he  is  disappointed,  but  what  can  I  do,  dear, 
when  mamma  told  me  not  to  encourage  him  ?" 

"I  certainly  am  under  no  pledge,  and  papa's  authority  is 
entitled  to  as  much  respect  as  'mamma's,"  Elvira  said  signifi 
cantly. 

"That  is  true,  but  you  see  mamma  made  me  promise  not  to 
encourage  him,"  said  Mercedes  with  sad  insistence. 

"Yes,  and  Rosa  and  Lota  urged  her  to  it.  There  is  George 
now." 

"I  will  go  to  my  room;  they  will  see  by  my  red  eyes  that  I 
cried." 

"Go  and  bathe  them.  Drink  some  water,  too,  and  come 
back." 

"And  I'll  bring  you  some  by  wa,y  of  an  excuse." 

"Why  did  Mercedes  run  off?"  George  asked. 

"She  will  be  back  in  a  minute;  she  went  to  take  a  glass  of 
water." 

"Oh!  why  did  she  not  tell  me  to  bring  it  to  her?"  said 
Clarence  regretfully.  "I  ought  to  have  thought  of  bringing  it. 
Wouldn't  she  rather  have  a  glass  of  wine  or  lemonade?  an,d 
you,  too,  Mrs.  Mechlin?  I  shall  take  it  as  a  favor  if  you  will 
accept.  A  glass  of  champagne  with  ice  I  think  would  do  very 
well  for  all  of  us;  don't  you  think  so  Mr.  Mechlin?" 

"Yes,  champagne  with  ice  would  be  very  nice,  provided  the 
champagne  be  good,"  George  replied. 

"Let  us  try  any  way,"  said  Clarence,  going  to  order  the  wine. 
George  and  Elvira  watched  him,  and  when  out  of  hearing 
George  said: 

"Don't  you  know  I  like  that  young  man  very  much.  What 
is  your  mother's  objection  to  him?" 


114  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

"His  family,  I  believe,  or  rather  his  father." 

"Old  Darrell  looks  like  a  decent,  honorable  sort  of  a  man  to 
me.  Certainly  Clarence  is  very  gentlemanly,  and  (what  is 
equally  to  be  considered)  Mercedes  likes  him  more  than  is 
good  for  her  peace  of  mind  if  she  is  not  to  have  him." 

"My  poor  little  sister,  she  is  so  unhappy,  and,  just  think  of 
it,  papa  told  Clarence  to  come,  to  follow  Mercedes  and  pro 
pose  to  her." 

"He  did?  That  is  just  like  him.  Doubtless  he  thought  of 
the  times  when  he  would  ride  eighty  miles  to  go  and  serenade 
Dona  Josefa,  and  his  sympathies  all  went  to  Darrell.  It  is  a 
pity  your  mother  doesn't  feel  as  kindly." 

"And  what  makes  me  feel  more  for  Mercedes  is,  that  she 
loves  Clarence  dearly,  but  in  obedience  to  mamma's  wishes 
she  will  not  even  give  him  any  encouragement  at  all." 

"Then  we  must,  that's  all.  Only  let  us  first  be  sure  that 
she  loves  him." 

"Oh,  as  to  that,  if  you  had  only  seen  her  beautiful  eyes  filled 
with  such  sad  tears  because  she  cannot  accept  his  love,  you 
would  have  no  doubts  as  to  her  feelings." 

"Then  my  course  is  clear.  I  am  a  Christian  gentleman  and 
will  not  see  savage  torture  inflicted  on  my  blue-eyed  herma 
nit  a.  I  think  I  know  how  to  fix  it  up." 

"What  will  you  do?" 

"  Quien  sabe  just  this  minute,  but  it  will  be  something,  de 
pend  upon  it.  There  he  is  now,"  and  Clarence  came,  followed 
by  a  waiter  bringing  the  champagne  and  ice.  He  looked  dis 
appointed  at  not  finding  Mercedes. 

"That  little  sister  of  ours  I  fear  has  given  us  the  slip.  I 
think  I'll  go  and  fetch  her  bodily,"  George  said,  rising  to  go. 

"No;  let  me  go,"  said  Elvira.  When  George  was  left  alone 
with  Clarence  'he  said: 

"I  fear  that  Mercedes  is  very  unhappy,  she  left  when  she 
saw  us  coming,  Elvira  says,  because  she  feared  her  eyes  showed 
traces  of  tears." 

Clarence  clenched  his  hands  as  if  he  would  like  to  throttle 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  115 

all  bad  luck  in  general,  and  this  one  in  particular,  looked  hag 
gard,  but  remained  silent."  George  continued : 

"Spanish  girls  are  trained  to  strict  filial  obedience,  and  it  is 
a  good  thing  when  not  carried  too  far.  Now,  Mercedes  made 
to  her  mother  some  very  foolish  promise,  and  if  her  heart  was 
to  break  into  little  pieces  she  would  not  swerve — not  she — 
though  she  be  fully  aware  that  her  happiness  would  be  wrecked 
for  ever,  she  would  not  disobey  her  mother." 

"But  is  it  alone  her  mother's  wishes?  In  obeying  her 
mother,  does  she  not  follow  her  own  inclination?" 

George  laughed,  saying:  "She  must  be  a  strange  girl,  in 
deed,  if  she  weeps  so  bitterly  and  is  so  unhappy  to  follow  her 
inclination." 

"Oh,  if  I  only  could  think  that!     Are  you  sure?" 

"Why  did  Dona  Josefa  wish  to  send  her  away?  Only  for 
the  hope  that  she  might  get  over  her  love  for  you.  Mercedes  is 
not  yet  eighteen,  and,  being  so  young,  her  mother  thought  that 
by  sending  her  away  from  you  and  yours,  she  might  forget  you., 
Only  such  hope  as  that  could  have  prevailed  upon  Dona  Josefa 
to  part  with  her  baby.  Spanish  mothers  will  never  let  a  daugh 
ter  go  out  of  the  maternal  sight  until  they  are  married;  but 
for  the  fear  that  Mercita's  attachment  to  you  might  become 
incurable  if  not  effaced  early,  the  mother  was  ready  to  sacri 
fice  her  feelings.  For  it  was  a  terrible  sacrifice,  it  was  like 
pulling  her  heart  strings  to  send  her  baby  off." 

"Oh,  how  she  must  hate  me  then  to  have  such  strong  objec 
tions  to  me."  said  Clarence,  sadly. 

"No,  she  does  not  hate  you" — and  George  hesitated. 

"Yes,  I  know  she  thinks  I  have  done  something  wrong  or 
dishonorable,  but  what  that  is,  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea." 

"Excuse  me  for  saying  so,  but  I  think  it  was  a  mistake  not 
to  tell  her — and  Mercedes  also — that  you  bought  the  land  you 
occupy.  Dona  Josefa  cannot  think  it  is  honorable  to  take  up 
land  as  your  father  did.  She  cannot  understand  how  any  law 
of  Congress  can  authorize  a  man  to  take  the  property  of  an 
other  against  his  will  and  without  paying  for  it." 


Il6  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

"And  she  is  perfectly  right.  I  see  the  mistake  now,  and  I 
regret  it  more  than  words  can  tell.  You  knew  why  I  asked 
Don  Mariano  not  to  mention  that  I  had  paid  him." 

"Yes,  Gabriel  told  me  first,  and  he,  too,  thinks  it  is  amis- 
take  to  let  the  Alamar  ladies  have  a  wrong  idea  of  you.  He 
thinks  you  do  an  injustice  to  yourself.  We  were  talking  about 
it  when  Don  Mariano  joined  us,  and  he  agreed  with  Gabriel 
and  said  that  he  would  speak  to  you  about  it  very  soon. 
Doesn't  any  of  your  family  know  about  it?" 

"Yes,  Everett  and  mother  do.  She  would  not  have  come 
down  if  I  had  not  told  her  I  paid  for  the  land.  But  she  and 
I  thought  that  for  the  present  we  had  better  say  nothing  about 
it  to  father,  knowing  how  sensitive  he  is  about  his  views  of 
' Squatter  rights?  He  has  had  so  much  trouble  about  those 
same  rights." 

"I  suppose  you  will  have  to  tell  him  soon — I  mean- when 
the  attorney  general  dismisses  the  appeal." 

"When  will  that  be,  do  you  think?" 

"  Just  as  soon  as  the  Supreme  Court  is  in  session.  It  would 
have  been  done  last  fall  had  not  the  solicitor  general  inter 
fered  in  the  most  absurd  and  arbitrary  manner." 

"  I  heard  he  had,  and  I  heard  the  settlers  rejoicing  about  it, 
but  I  never  knew  how  it  happened — I  would  like  to  hear." 

"Well,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  said  Elvira,  coming,  "if  my 
eloquence  and  persuasive  powers  were  not  of  the  unprecedent 
ed  quality  they  really  are,  I  would  never  have  been  able  to  per 
suade  the  senorita  to  come.  Would  you  believe  it?  she  was 
actually  in  bed  for  the  night." 

"Ah!"  Clarence  exclaimed,  regretfully. 

"Yes,  I  told  her  that  if  she  didn't  come,  you  would  take  the 
champagne  to  her  room,  and  this  so  frightened  her,  that  she 
began  to  dress  herself  immediately,  but  the  poor  little  thing 
trembles  as  if  she  had  the  ague.  I  gave  her  a  cashmere  wrap 
per  and  soft  shawl  to  wrap  up  and  not  take  cold. 

"Go  and  tell  her  we  have  good  news  for  her,"  suggested 
George. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  Iiy 

"  She'll  think  you  are  jesting,"  Elvira  answered. 

"Not  if  you  tell  her  that  we  know  what  it  is  that  Dona  Josefa 
has  against  Darrell,  and  we'll  make  it  all  right." 

"Oh,  don't  deceive  the  poor  little  thing  when  she  seems  as 
if  all  her  strength  is  already  gone  from  her,"  Elvira  said. 

"  But  we  are  not  deceiving  her,"  George  insisted. 

"Hush!  here  she  comes,"  Elvira  said,  and  Mercedes  slowly 
approached  them.  "Come,  sweet  Baby,  these  gentlemen  say 
they  have  some  awful  nice  news  for  you." 

"News  that  the  wine  is  good,  I  suppose,  but  I  don't  like 
wine,"  she  said. 

"No,  it  isn't  the  wine,"  George  said,  rising  for  Mercedes  to 
take  his  place.  "  Sit  down  here  between  Darrell  and  myself 
and  you  shall  hear  all  about  it." 

"What  is  it?"  Mercedes  asked,  looking  from  one  to  the 
other. 

"I  can't  tell  you,  little  sister,  for  they  haven't  told  me," 
Elvira  said. 

"Darrell,  you  fill  the  glasses  now  while  I  tell  these  seho- 
ritas  what  sort  of  a  black  sheep  Dona  Josefa  thinks  you 
are,  and  so  thinking,  objects  to  you."  Clarence  proceeded  to 
put  ice  into  the  glasses,  while  George  continued  :  "  The  objec 
tion  is,  that  she  believes  the  Darrells  are  l  squatters]  like  all 
the  others  at  the  rancho,  whereas  Clarence  bought  their  land 
from  Don  Mariano  and  paid  for  it  even  before  they  built  their 
house." 

"Oh!  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  that!"  Elvira  exclaimed  with 
a  sigh  of  relief.  "But  why  don't  papa  tell  it  to  mamma?  It 
is  an  injustice  to  the  Darrells  to  let  her  ignore  it." 

"It  is  my  fault,  Mrs.  Mechlin,"  Clarence  said;  "my  father 
holds  the  accepted  but  very  erroneous  popular  opinions  about 
' squatter  rights /  and  I,  to  avoid  painful  discussions  with  him, 
requested  Senor  Alamar  not  to  say,  for  the  present,  that  I  had 
paid  for  the  land?' 

"You  see,  little  sister,  how,  after  all,  you  have  not  been  lov 
ing  a  squatter  ?  What  a  pity,"  said  George,  putting  his  arm 


Tl8  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

around  Mercedes,  who  buried  her  face  in  the  lappels  of  his  coat. 
"  It  isn't  half  so  romantic  to  love  a  plain  gentleman  as  to  love 
a  brigand,  or,  at  least,  a  squatter." 

"Dona  Josefa's  objection  to  me  is  perfectly  proper  and  cor 
rect.  I  would  not  let  a  daughter  of  mine  marry  a  squatter  no 
more  than  to  marry  a  tramp.  I  shall,  of  course,  request  Don 
Mariano  to  put  me  right  in  her  estimation,  and  tell  her  I  do 
not  feel  authorized  by  Congress  to  steal  land,  though  my  father 
and  many  other  honest  men  hold  different  opinions  about  it." 

"There!  Do  you  hear  that?  Let  us  have  a  bumper,  and 
drown  the  squatter  in  champagne !  Exit  tramp !  Enter  gen 
tleman!  Here  is  to  Baby's  health,"  said  George. 

All  emptied  their  glasses,  except  Mercedes,  whose  hand 
shook  so  violently  that  she  spilled  more  wine  than  she  drank. 

"Don't  lose  your  courage  now,"  Elvira  said  to  her. 

"I  believe  pussy  is  regretting  she  lost  her  squatter.  Isn't 
that  so,  pussy?  You  have  not  said  one  word.  Are  you  re 
gretting  that,  after  all,  you  cannot  sacrifice  to  love  your  pa 
trician  pride  by  marrying  a  land-shark,  thus  proving  you  are  a 
heroine?" 

"  Oh,  what  a  silly  boy,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"Really,  I  think  our  romance  is  spoiled.  It  would  have  been 
so  fine — like  a  dime  novel — to  have  carried  you  off  bodily  by 
order  of  infuriated,  cruel  parents,  and  on  arriving  at  New  York 
marry  you,  at  the  point  of  a  loaded  revolver,  to  a  bald-headed, 
millionaire!  Your  midnight  shrieks  would  have  made  the 
blood  of  the  passers-by  curdle !  Then  Clarence  would  have 
rushed  in  and  stabbed  the  millionaire,  and  you,  falling  across 
his  prostrate  body,  said  :  'Tramp  or  not,  I  am  thine!'" 

"  Oh,  George,  stop  your  nonsense,"  Elvira  said. 

"Whereas  now,"  George  went  on,  "  the  unpoetical  fact  comes 
out  that  Darrell  is  a  decent  sort  of  a  fellow,  and  there 'is  no 
reason  why  a  proper  girl  shouldn't  have  him  for  her  husband ; 
and  our  romance  is  stripped  of  its  thrilling  features,  as  the 
hero  will  not  steal,  even  when  Congress  tells  him  to.  And  that 
is  the  denouement,  with  the  addition  only  that  I  am  hungry. 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  1 19 

What  have  you  got  to  eat  in  those  two  little  baskets  that  Tano 
brought  on  board,  and  which  smell  so  nice?" 

"Ah,  yes,  I  had  forgotten.  Mamma  put  up  a  nice  lunch, 
thinking  we  might  want  it  if  we  felt  sick,  or  didn't  want  to  go  to 
the  table.  I'll  go  and  bring  it,"  said  Elvira,  setting  down  her 
glass,  and  rising. 

"Let  me  go,"  said  George,  "as  I  am  the  hungry  one." 

"Bring  both  baskets.  Let  us  see  what  they  have.  Ah,  I 
was  forgetting,  I  have  the  three  little  silver  plates  in  my 
satchel;  we  must  have  those,"  added  Elvira,  following  her 
husband. 

"Can  you  forgive  my  stupidity  ?  See  what  a  world  of  anxious 
thoughts  we  would  have  avoided  by  explaining  to  Dona  Josefa 
everything,"  said  Clarence  to  Mercedes. 

"  Yes,  it  was  unfortunate.  But  you  will  return  soon  and  ask 
papa  to  tell  her  all,  will  you  not?" 

"Indeed  I  will,  by  the  next  steamer;  and  will  have  better 
heart  to  await  your  return.  My  precious  angel,  don't  ever  for 
get  how  devotedly  I  idolize  you !  Will  you  let  me  send  you  a 
ring,  if  your  mother  allows  me?" 

"Couldn't  you  bring  it  yourself?" 

"Oh,  Mercedes,  my  beloved!  how  happy  you  make  me!" 

"Look  here,"  said  George,  groping  in  the  dark;  "Where are 
the  magic  baskets?  I  don't  smell  them." 

"I  knew  you  wouldn't,  that  is  why  I  came  to  find  them." 

"Look  here!  if  you  follow  a  fellow  like  that,  you'll  get 
kissed,"  said  he,  taking  his  wife  in  his  arms,  and  covering  her 
face  with  kisses. 

"Stop,  George,  some  one  might  pass  who  didn't  know  you 
are  my  husband." 

"That's  so,"  said  he,  desisting.  "But  the  fact  of  the  matter 
is,  that  I  want  to  kiss  you  all  the  time,  you  are  so  pretty  and 
such  a  sweet  darling.  Give  me  the  basket,  and  let  your  hungry 
husband  go  before  he  eats  you  up." 

"Here  they  are.     I'll  carry  the  plates  and  knives." 

"Tano  said  something  about  boned  turkey,  a  la  espanola^ 


120  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

stuffed  with  mashed  almonds  and  'ajonjoli"''  said  George,  set 
ting  the  baskets  on  a  chair  before  Clarence;  "and  something 
about  a  ltortita  de  aceitunaj  with  sweet  marjoram,  and  I  think 
we  got  them,  to  judge  by  their  fragrance." 

"Shall  I  go  and  order  more  wine?"  asked  Clarence. 

"Oh,  no,  no,"  said  Elvira,  this  is  plenty." 

"How  strange  it  is  that  I  haven't  felt  this  wine  at  all,"  said 
Mercedes;  "one-half  glass  only  will  make  my  face  unpleas 
antly  warm  always,  for  that  reason  I  dislike  wines;  but  see,  I 
drank  this  whole  glassful,  and  I  don't  feel  it  any  more  than  if 
it  was  water." 

"  But  don't  you  feel  warmer?  You  were  shivering  when  you 
came  from  your  room,"  George  said. 

"Yes,  I  feel  better,"  she  said,  timidly. 

"Now  eat  a  little  and  you  will  sleep  better.  Take  one  of 
these  'empanaditas  de  polio  j"  said  Elvira,  offering  one. 

"Give  me  one,"  George  said.  "I  know  them  by  experi 
ence,  and  the  trouble  about  them  is  that  you  can  never  have 
enough,  though  you  feel  you  have  eaten  too  many.  Try 
them,  Darrell,  and  when  you  have  filled  our  glasses  I'll  satisfy 
your  curiosity,  telling  you  why  the  Solicitor  General  would  not 
dismiss  the  appeal  of  the  squatters." 

"Yes,  I  want  to  know  all  about  that,"  said  Clarence,  filling 
the  glasses. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WHY  THE  APPEAL  WAS  NOT  DISMISSED. 

At  the  time  when  this  moon-lit  picnic  of  four  took  place 
on  the  steamer's  deck,  as  it  glided  northward  over  the  glassy 
surface  of  the  immense  Pacific,  the  people  of  California  had 
not  yet  heard  about  the  disclosure  of  the  famous  Cotton  suit. 
This  suit  was  hidden  in  the  mists  of  a  distant  future,  and 
therefore  the  famous  "Huntington  Letters"  had  not  come  forth 
to  educate  the  American  mind  in  the  fascinating,  meandering, 
shady  ways  of  "convincing"  or  of  "bribery  and  corruption" 
as  the  newspapers  and  committee  reports  have  harshly  stig 
matized  Mr.  Huntington's  diplomacy  (!)  At  that  time,  1872, 
people  yet  spoke  of  "bribery"  with  a  degree  of  shamefaced- 
ness  and  timidity.  It  was  reserved  for  Mr.  Huntington  to 
familiarize  the  American  people  with  the  fact  that  an  American 
gentleman  could  go  to  Washington  with  the  avowed  purpose 
of  influencing  legislation  by  "convincing"  people  with  money 
or  other  inducements,  and  yet  no  one  lose  caste,  or  lose  his 
high  social  or  public  position,  but  on  the  contrary,  the  con 
vinced  and  the  convincer  be  treated  with  the  most  distinguished 
consideration.  So  after  drinking  half  of  his  second  glass, 
George  said : 

"I  don't  believe  the  stories  about  Washington  being  such  a 
corrupt  place,  where  people  get  everything  by  bribing.  That 
is  a  shameful  slander.  I  went  there  about  that  dismissal  of 
the  Squatters'  Appeal,  and  was  treated  like  a  gentleman,  even 
by  the  Solicitor  General,  who  was  outrageously  unjust  to  us. 
After  my  uncle  had  sent  to  the  Attorney  General  Don  Maria 
no's  letter  explaining  the  case  and  stating  how  the  transcript 
had  been  in  Washington  two  years,  I  went  as  Don  Mariano's 


122  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

attorney  to  look  after  the  case.  I  saw  the  Attorney  General 
immediately,  and  he  told  me  to  return  at  ten  o'clock  next  morn 
ing.  I  did  so,  and  was  shown  in  at  once.  He  said : 

"'I  looked  at  the  case  again  last  evening,  and  don't  see 
where  those  settlers  can  find  a  hook  on  which  to  hang  their 
appeal.  There  isn't  any.  It  is  very  singular  that  this  case  has 
not  been  dismissed  before  by  my  predecessor.  So  I  was  just 
telling  the  Solicitor  General,  as  you  entered,  to  have  it  dis 
missed  this  morning.  I  have  explained  my  opinion  to  him. 
He  is  going  now  to  the  Supreme  Court  and  can  make  the  mo 
tion  and  tell  the  clerk  to  enter  the  dismissal  to-day.  The 
United  States  have  no  case  against  Sehor  Alamar,  his  title  is 
perfectly  good,'  said  he,  looking  at  the  Solicitor,  who  stood 
by  silent  and  motionless.  'You  have  only  this  one  case  to 
attend  to*  this  morning,  besides  the  one  I  want  continued  until 
I  return.  The  others,  you  understand,  I  leave  you  to  manage 
as  you  think  proper,  and  at  such  times  as  you  think  best.' 

"I  thanked  the  Attorney  General,  and  as  I  took  my  leave  I 
said  I  did  not  know  he  was  going  away. 

"'Yes,'  he  said,  'I  am  going  this  evening  to  Oregon  to  see 
my  constituents,  but  my  absence  will  not  affect  your  case,  the 
Solicitor  General  takes  my  place  during  my  absence,  and  he 
has  only  to  say  before  the  Supreme  Court  that  I  enter  a  dis 
missal,  and  that  ends  the  matter.' 

"As  I  went  out  I  said  to  the  Solicitor,  'I  suppose  then,  this 
business  is  finished  now?' 

"'Such  is  the  supposition,'  said  he,  and  we  went  out  to 
gether.  I  had  a  great  mind  to  follow  him  to  the  Supreme 
Court  and  see  what  he  was  going  to  do,  but  I  thought  he 
might  not  like  being  watched.  Well,  sir,  would  you  believe 
it?  That  man  went  to  the  Supreme  Court  and  never  said  boo 
about  our  dismissal.  Next  morning  I  went  to  ask  him  if  the 
dismissal  was  entered.  He  sent  word  he  was  engaged, — to  call 
again.  I  called  in  the  afternoon,  and  he  had  left  the  office. 
Next  morning  I  called  again,  and  he  of  course  was  engaged. 
I  went  to  the  clerk  of  the  Supreme  Court,  and  giving  him  the 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  123 

number  of  the  case,  asked  if  it  had  been  dismissed.  He  said 
no,  that  the  Solicitor  General  had  been  at  the  Supreme  Court 
every  day,  but  had  entered  no  dismissal.  I  telegraphed  to 
Uncle  Lawrence  to  come,  and  as  soon  as  he  arrived  we  went 
to  see  the  President  about  it.  I  laid  the  whole  case  before 
him.  I  told  him  how  the  squatters  were  destroying  Don  Ma 
riano's  cattle,  and  how  by  a  law  of  the  California  legislature, 
any  one  could  plant  grain  field  without  fencing,  and  take  up 
cattle  that  went  to  those  fields,  no  matter  whether  there  was 
any  title  to  the  land  or  whether  the  field  was  no  larger  than 
one  acre. 

'"But  the  law  does  not  open  to  settlers  private  property,  pri 
vate  lands  ? ' 

"  'Yes  it  does,  because  land  is  not  considered  private  property 
until  the  title  to  it  is  confirmed  and  patented.  As  the  pro 
ceedings  to  obtain  a  patent  might  consume  years,  almost  a  life 
time,  the  result  is  that  the  native  Californians  (of  Spanish  de 
scent)  who  were  the  land  owners  when  we  took  California,  are 
virtually  despoiled  of  their  lands  and  their  cattle  and  horses. 
Congress  virtually  took  away  their  lands  by  putting  them  in 
litigation.  And  the  California  legislature  takes  away  their  cat 
tle,  decreeing  that  settlers  need  not  fence  their  crops,  but  put 
in  a  corral  the  cattle  that  will  surely  come  to  graze  in  their 
fields.  As  the  cattle  don't  know  the  law,  they  eat  the  crops 
and  get  killed.' 

'"But  that  is  very  hard  on  those  land  owners.' 

" '  Certainly.  They  are  being  impoverished  with  frightful  ra 
pidity.  In  a  few  years  the  majority  of  them  will  have  been 
totally  ruined,  socially  obliterated.  I  doubt  if  a  dozen  families 
will  escape  ruin.  There  seems  to  be  a  settled  purpose  with  our 
law-givers  to  drive  the  natives  to  poverty,  and  crowd  them  out 
of  existence.  If  we  don't  turn  them  all  into  hardened  and 
most  desperate  criminals,  it  will  be  because  they  are  among 
the  most  incorruptible  of  the  human  race.  But  there  is  no 
denying  that  our  laws  are  doing  all  that  can  be  done  to  drive 
them  into  squalid  hovels,  and  thence  into  the  penitentiaries 
or  the  poor  houses.' 


124  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"  'This  is  certainly  very  sad,'  said  the  President,  with  genuine 
sympathy,  adding  after  a  short  pause : 

'"Wait  for  me  here.  I'll  run  across  the  street  to  the  Attor 
ney  General's  office,  and  I'll  ask  the  Solicitor  what  it  all  means 
in  this  Alamar  case,'  so  saying  he  put  on  his  hat  and  went 
out. 

"'That  is  what  endears  General  Grant  to  all  his  friends,' 
said  my  uncle ;  '  the  idea  of  his  going  personally  to  see  the 
Solicitor,  he  the  President,  and  only  because  he  wishes  to  do 
a  kindness.' 

"'I  wish  he  had  sent  for  the  proud  Solicitor  to  come  here. 
This  visit  of  the  President  will  make  him  more  over-bearing,' 
said  I.  'I  am  disgusted  at  his  most  arbitrary  conduct.' 
'  Wait,'  said  my  uncle,  '  let  us  hear  first  what  he  has  to  say 
to  the  President.'" 

In  a  short  time  the  President  returned.  He  said  :  '  Well, 
gentlemen,  I  cannot  make  out  why  the  Solicitor  did  not  dis 
miss  the  case,  as  he  was  ordered.  He  says  he  found  that  the 
Attorney  General  had  not  looked  into  the  record  carefully,  and 
so  he  did  not  think  the  case  should  be  dismissed.' 

"'But  how  could  he  have  found  out  that  the  Attorney  Gen 
eral  had  not  looked  into  the  case  carefully  only  by  riding  from 
the  office  to  the  Supreme  Court?  He  must  have  disobeyed  the 
instructions  of  the  Attorney  General  first,  and  then  to  justify  his 
disobedience,  trumps  up  the  pretext  that  the  case  had  not 
been  examined,'  said  uncle. 

'"The  Attorney  General  did  not  tell  him  to  look  into  the  case 
and  give  his  opinion.  He  was  told  that  the  case  had  been  ex 
amined;  that  the  pleadings  and  allegations  were  trivial ;  that 
the  United  States  had  no  case,  and  the  matter  should  be  dis 
missed,'  I  said. 

"  'It  is  clear,  that  without  authority  he  took  upon  himself  to 
review  and  reverse  the  decision  of  the  Attorney  General,'  said 
my  uncle. 

'"I  don't  understand  his  motive  or  object,'  the  President 
said.  'But  I  told  him  I  presumed  he  could  state  his  opinion  in 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  125 

writing,  and  he  said  he  would.  Perhaps  he  will  give  a  better 
reason  for  his  action  than  he  did  verbally.' 

"  'No,  sir,'  uncle  said,  'he  will  give  no  better  reason,  as  he 
has  none  to  give.  He  has  some  spite  against  the  Attorney 
General,  and  is  laying  in  wait  to  catch  something  to  hurt  him. 
Fortunately,  he  can't  use  this  case  for  any  such  purpose,  for 
it  is  a  very  clear  one,  and  the  hands  of  the  Attorney  General  are 
very  clean.' 

"  'Of  course  they  are,'  the  President  said. 

'"And  now,  sir,  what  do  you  advise  us  to  do?'  asked 
uncle. 

"The  President  smiled,  mused  a  little,  and  said: 

"  'My  advice  would  be  to  wait  until  the  Attorney  General  re 
turns  from  Oregon.  I  know  it  is  a  hardship  for  the  rightful 
owner  of  the  land  to  wait  so  long,  but  the  question  is,  would 
it  not  be  longer  if  the  Solicitor  finds  other  reasons  to  take  this 
case  into  his  own  hands.  Now  he  has  promised  me  to  let  the 
matter  rest  until  the  Attorney  General  comes  back.' 

"  'Yes,'  my  uncle  said,  '  I  think  what  you  advise  is  the  best 
thing  to  do.  Evidently  the  Solicitor  is  beating  the  bush  to 
start  some  game,  and  will  be  satisfied  with  a  'mare's  nest,'  if 
he  can  only  entangle  the  Attorney  General  in  it.  But  this  is  a 
very  paltry  and  picayunish  business  for  a  Solicitor  General,  Mr. 
President,  and  it  is  silly,  too,  because  he  has  shown  his  hand 
to  little  purpose.  He  has  plainly  demonstrated  how  anxious 
he  is  to  find  something  against  the  Attorney  General,  but  that 
something  he  hasn't  got  yet.' 

"The  President  laughed,  and  said:  'You  mustn't  be  so  hard 
on  the  Solicitor.' 

"It  was  decided  that  my  uncle  would  return  to  New  York  by 
the  four  o'clock  train  that  afternoon,  and  I  would  remain  to 
receive  the  opinion  in  writing  which  the  Solicitor  had  promised 
the  President  he  would  give. 

"I  did  not  have  to  wait  until  next  day  for  that  profound  opin 
ion.  As  I  was  going  to  dinner  at  six  o'clock,  a  messenger 
handed  me  a  closed  official  envelope  which  felt  quite  heavy. 


126  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

But  that  was  all  the  weight  the  thing  possessed,  for  it  was  the 
lightest,  most  vapory  composition  that  a  grown-up  man,  long 
past  boyhood,  could  evolve  from  a  mature  brain. 

"It  made  me  angry  to  read  it.  '  The  man  is  evidently  not  a 
fool,  but  thinks  we  are,'  I  said  to  myself,  and  made  up  my 
mind  I  would  go  next  morning  and  tell  him  to  his  face  what  I 
thought  of  his  conduct  and  his  document. 

"  Promptly  at  ten  o'clock  next  morning  I  presented  myself  at 
the  Attorney  General's  office,  and  was  immediately  ushered  be 
fore  the  august  presence  of  the  great  Solicitor,  the  mighty 
hunter  of  'mare's  nests.'  He  evidently  thought  I  had  come 
to  thank  him  for  his  vapory  effusion,  for  he  received  me  quite 
smilingly,  and  without  a  trace  of  that  hauteur  which  he  had 
at  first  meant  should  be  so  crushing. 

"Taking  the  chair  he  so  graciously  offered  me,  I  said:  'Sir, 
without  meaning  any  direspect  to  the  Solicitor  General  of  the 
United  States,  I  would  like  to  inquire  what  is  the  meaning  of 
the  document  I  had  the  honor  to  receive  from  you  yesterday?' 

"He  colored  up,  but  still  smiling,  answered:  'Did  you  not 
understand  it?  I  thought  I  wrote  in  very  plain  English.' 

"'The  English  was  plain  enough,  but  I  failed  to  catch  your 
idea.  Will  you  permit  me  to  make  a  few  enquiries?' 

"'Certainly.' 

"'You  remember  I  was  present  when  the  Attorney  General 
told  you  that  he  had  examined  the  transcript  carefully,  and  not 
finding  that  the  government  has  any  case  at  all,  ordered  you 
to  dismiss  it.' 

"  He  bowed,  but  did  not  speak. 

"I  continued  :  'The  Attorney  General  did  not  request  you  or 
authorize  you  to  review  his  opinion.  He  merely  said  you  were 
to  dismiss  the  appeal,  and  have  the  clerk  of  the  court  enter  in 
the  record  the  order  of  dismissal  that  same  morning.  Had 
you  obeyed  the  Attorney  General's  order,  you  could  not  have 
had  time  to  review  his  opinion,  and  find  that  it  was  incor 
rect.  Has  the  Solicitor  General  the  right,  and  is  it  incum 
bent  upon  him,  to  correct  the  Attorney  General's  acts  and 
opinions?" 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  127 

"'You  evidently  do  not  understand  our  relative  positions, 
and  I  have  not  the  time  to  instruct  you.' 

"  'Whose  positions  do  you  mean? ' 

"  'Ours — mine  and  the  Attorney  General's/ 

'"Who  is  the  head  of  the  department — the  Attorney  General 
or  the  Solicitor?' 

'"The  Attorney  General.' 

'"Then  he  was  your  chief — your  superior — when  he  gave  the 
order  to  make  the  dismissal?' 

"'But  I  was  not  his  clerk.  You  do  not  know  how  far 
it  was  discretionary  with  me  to  execute  the  order  that  day 
or  not.' 

"'Ah,  I  see.  The  chief  might  issue  an  order,  but  the  sub 
altern  might  only  execute  it  if  he  deems  it  proper.' 

'"I  am  not  a  subaltern — I  have  as  much  authority — ' 

'"Yes,  in  the  absence  of  the  Attorney  General.' 

"  'Always — when  absent  or  present.' 

'"Then  the  department  has  two  heads.  That  is,  I  sup 
pose,  what  confused  things  in  my  mind.  The  matter  then 
is  to  rest  as  it  now  is  until  the  Attorney  General  returns?' 

'"Yes,  I  shall  not  remand  the  case,  as  I  might  have  done;  it 
will  wait.' 

"I  took  my  leave  then,  having  seen  that  he  understood  I  saw 
through  the  contemptible  impertinence  of  his  conduct.  That 
is  all  the  satisfaction  I  could  have  then,  but  next  winter,  as 
soon  as  the  Supreme  Court  convenes,  the  matter  will  be 
settled." 

"And  will  the  squatters  have  to  go  then?"  Elvira  asked. 

"Not  immediately,  unless  they  were  to  be  guided  by  honor 
able  motives.  The  rancho  will  be  surveyed  first,  and  then  the 
patent  issued  after  the  survey  is  approved  by  the  Surveyor  Gen 
eral,"  George  replied. 

"Ah  !     The  endless  red  tape,"  said  Elvira. 

"Poor  papa,  he  has  so  much  trouble,"  Mercedes  sighed. 
"In  another  year  all  the  cattle  will  have  been  killed." 

"And  the  squatters  will  be  more  murderous,  when  they 
learn  that  their  appeal  is  dismissed,"  George  said. 


128  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"Yes,  I  was  thinking  what  will  be  the  best  to  do  to  meet 
the  emergency.  I  shall  speak  about  that  to  Don  Mariano  on 
my  return,"  said  Clarence. 

"Yes,  you  help  him  all  you  can,"  George  said. 

"Most  undoubtedly.  I  will  be  able  to  do  much  more  if  I 
can  persuade  my  father  to  take  a  correct  view  of  the  matter. 
But  he  might  not,  for  as  he  has  had  so  much  trouble  sustain 
ing  the  rights  of  squatters,  he  has  got  to  feel  as  if  he  were  the 
champion  of  a  misunderstood  cause  and  much  maligned 
people,"  Clarence  said,  smiling  sadly. 

"No  doubt,  if  Mr.  Darrell  is  to  be  unfriendly,  papa  will 
have  much  more  trouble  to  manage  the  others,"  Elvira  said. 

"How  singular  that  a  man  as  bright  and  honorable  as  he  is, 
can  find  any  reason  to  justify  'sguatterism"1  said  George. 

"I  think  he  began  by  being  persuaded  to  take  a  claim  in 
the  Suscol  rancho,  honestly  thinking  it  was  government  land. 
Afterwards  the  grant  was  confirmed,  I  think,  but  then  he  al 
ready  felt  compelled  to  maintain  his  position  to  justify  his 
action,  and  so  he  began  by  a  mistake  which  his  pride  will  not 
let  him  acknowledge.  I  was  a  little  child  then,  but  I  know 
he  has  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble.  For  the  last  ten  years  we 
have  been  leasing  land,  but  he  had  been  wishing  to  have  a  farm 
of  his  own,  so  as  not  to  be  putting  his  labor  and  time  and 
money  to  impfove  some  one  else's  land.  Thus  he  was  induced 
to  come  south  on  the  representations  that  there  was  plenty  of 
vacant  government  land,  and  that  the  Texas  Pacific  railroad 
would  soon  be  built  and  southern  California  be  prosperous," 
said  Clarence,  anxious  to  extenuate  his  father's  errors. 

"I  shall  telegraph  to  Don  Mariano  when  the  appeal  is  dis 
missed,  so  you  can  prepare  the  ground  the  best  way  you  can," 
said  George.  "And  now  young  ladies  it  is  near  midnight,  and 
is  time  for  well  regulated  children  to  be  asleep." 

"The  moon  is  so  lovely  I  could  sit  here  for  hours,  watching 
its  flashes  on  the  water,"  said  Mercedes. 

"So  could  I,"  Clarence  exclaimed. 

"But  I  could  not  allow  it,  and  let  you  both  run  the  risk  of 
being  considered  moon  struck,"  said  George,  laughing. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AT  SAN  FRANCISCO. 

The  sun  was  quite  high  above  the  horizon  when  Georgfb 
joined  Clarence  on  deck,  and  both  began  to  promenade  and 
talk  while  waiting  for  the  ladies  to  come,  that  the  four  might 
go  to  breakfast  together. 

"My  private  opinion  is  that  these  young  ladies  are  going  to 
oversleep  themselves,"  George  said,  as  they  passed  the  door  of 
his  room,  after  promenading  for  half  an  hour. 

"No  they  are  not,"  Elvira  said,  coming  out  as  fresh  and 
beautiful  as  a  rosa  de  castilla.  "Good  morning,  Mr.  Darrell, 
I  hope  you  are  well." 

"  I  thank  you,"  replied  Clarence,  "  I  believe  I  never  felt 
better.  I  am  delighted  to  see  you  so  bright  and  blooming; 
you  are  evidently  an  excellent  sailor." 

"Oh  yes,"  Elvira  answered,  "I  really  enjoy  it;  but  where  is 
the  Senorita  Mercita;  is  she  not  yet  up?" 

"I  think  not.  She  has  not  come  from  her  room,"  was  Clar 
ence's  reply. 

"I  am  going  to  peep  through  her  window,"  said  Elvira.  She 
did  so  by  turning  the  slats  and  pushing  aside  the  curtain  just 
a  little.  She  then  motioned  to  George  to  come  and  look. 

"By  jove,  Darrell,  you  ought  to  see  this  picture." 

"Hush!  you  will  awake  her  by  speaking  so  loud,"  Elvira 
said,  still  looking  at  her  sister. 

A  tiny  sunbeam  played  over  Mercedes'  forehead,  making 
the  little  curls  over  it  look  like  golden  threads.  Her  head  was 
thrown  back  a  little  and  turned  towards  the  window,  displaying 
her  white  throat,  partially  covered  by  the  lace  frills  of  her 
night  dress.  Her  left  arm  rested  gracefully  over  her  head,  with 


130  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

the  sleeve  pushed  off  displaying  part  of  the  forearm  and  the 
perfect  curve  of  her  delicate  wrist.  The  right  hand  rested  over 
the  coverlet,  and  it  looked  like  a  child's  hand,  so  dimpled 
and  white  and  soft.  It  was  a  perfect  picture  of  a  "sleeping 
beauty." 

"Doesn't  she  look  like  a  baby?  My  own  sweet  sister;  I  am 
so  glad  she  is  sleeping  so  sweetly.  She  has  slept  very  poorly 
for  months,"  whispered  Elvira.  "Come  away,  we  mustn't  talk 
near  her  window,  she  must  have  all  the  sleep  she  wants." 

So  saying,  she  pulled  back  the  curtain,  shut  down  the  win 
dow  slats,  and  all  walked  noiselessly  away. 

As  they  went  down  to  breakfast,  Elvira  said : 

"  I  hope  no  one  will  come  smoking  some  nasty  cigar  by  her 
window,  poisoning  the  air  and  making  her  miserable,  for  she 
cannot  bear  tobacco  smoke  when  the  boat  is  in  motion. '; 

"I  thought  she  was  not  subject  to  sea-sickness,"  George  said. 

"No,  not  at  all,  as  long  as  there  are  no  tobacco  fumes  near, 
but  it  seems  that  tobacco  smoke,  combined  with  the  rocking 
of  the  sea,  make  her  deathly  sick,  whereas  the  tobacco  alone 
or  the  rocking  by  itself,  will  not  affect  her." 

"I  understand  that  well,  for  I  don't  like  to  smoke  while  sail 
ing  either,  if  there  is  much  motion,  and  I  think  no  one  ought  to 
be  allowed  to  smoke  on  deck  where  ladies  are,"  George  said. 

"I  think  so  too.  We  have  too  many  rights,  and  more 
than  our  share  of  privileges,"  Clarence  added. 

"Wait  until  we  have  woman  suffrage.  We  will  make  things 
uncomfortable  for  inebriates  and  tobacco  smokers,"  Elvira 
said,  laughing. 

Their  pleasant  voyage  came  to  its  end,  as  all  things  must  in 
this  fleeting  life,  and  the  names  of  Mr.  George  Mechlin  and 
party,  from  San  Diego,  were  duly  entered  in  the  hotel  register. 

"I  put  your  name  down,  Darrell,  for  we  want  you  with  us 
while  in  the  city,"  said  George. 

"I  thank  you  sincerely ;  that  is  exactly  what  I  wished." 

"We  will  be  ready  for  dinner  at  six." 

"I  shall  be  on  hand  promptly." 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  131 

Clarence  was  anxious  to  see  his  broker  and  afraid  he  would 
leave  the  office  before  he  got  there,  but  it  was  more  imperative 
yet  to  visit  his  tailor.  He  did  so,  and  though  in  haste,  selected 
with  care  the  cut  and  style  and  color  which  he  knew  was  most 
becoming.  He  left  a  list  of  all  the  articles  of  clothing  he  de 
sired  to  be  sent  to  his  hotel  by  five  o'clock,  and  then  directed 
his  driver  to  take  him  to  his  broker's  office. 

"Just  in  time,"  said  Hubert  Haverly,  coming  forward  to 
meet  him.  "As  soon  as  the  steamer  was  signaled  at  the  gate, 
I  sent  to  look  for  our  Arizona  men.  They  are  now  at  the  back 
office  waiting  for  you."  . 

"Tell  me  something  about  the  matter,  to  guide  me.  And 
tell  me  too,  how  poor  or  how  rich  I  am,  before  I  make  any 
bargain  to  purchase  mines." 

"Well,  on  the  whole,  I  guess  I'll  call  you  rich.  I  bought 
the  farm  as  you  —or  rather  as  Everett — telegraphed.  I  paid — 
well,  how  much  do  you  think  I  paid  for  it?  " 

"Hundred  and  forty  thousand?  " 

Hubert  shook  his  head,  saying  "Try  again." 

"Hundred  and  twenty?" 

"Ninety  thousand  only,  lucky  fellow." 

"What?     You  said  he  asked  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand." 

"Yes,  and  you — or  Everett — telegraphed  to  pay  the  money, 
but  you  see  the  poor  fellow  lost  heavily  in  stocks  that  day,  and 
as  the  bank  was  going  to  foreclose  on  the  farm  for  a  loan  of 
forty  thousand,  he  thought  the  best  thing  he  could  do  was  to 
sell  out  quick.  He  came  to  see  me  and  said  'Do  you  think 
Clarence  will  buy  for  one  hundred  and  twenty  thousand?'  I 
told  him  I  had  telegraphed  to  you  and  probably  you  would 
come  up.  He  said  'If  you  pay  me  ninety  thousand  cash  down 
to-day,  Clarence  can  have  the  farm  for  that  price.'  I  told  him 
to  let  me  have  the  refusal  for  you,  for  that  price,  until  the  next 
morning.  I  got  your  telegram  in  the  evening.  Next  morning 
he  came  looking  very  dejected,  and  asked  if  I  had  heard  from 
you.  'Yes,'  I  said.  He  waited,  but  as  I  said  no  more,  he  added, 
'I  hope  Clarence  is  not  going  to  pinch  me  hard.  The  farm  is 


132  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

worth  two  hundred  thousand,  but  as  the  Darrells  made  all  the 
improvements  on  it,  I  a^n  willing  he  should  have  it  cheaper 
than  any  one  else.  How  much  does  he  offer  ?  '  '  He  left  it  to 
rne  to  make  the  best  bargain  I  can.  I  will  let  you  have  the 
ninety  thousand,  of  course.'  You  never  saw  a  man  so  relieved. 
He  lifted  his  head  and  said,  'I  will  pay  all  my  debts  and 
have  thirty  thousand  clear,  anyway,  to  make  a  beginning,' 
and  so  the  papers  were  drawn  up  and  the  farm  is  yours.  I  con 
gratulate  you." 

"Thanks,"  Clarence  said,  squeezing  Hubert's  hand.  "And 
now  about  th*e  balance  on  hand  and  the  Arizona  mines." 

"Well,  you  have  about  one  hundred  thousand  dollars.  If 
you  sell  all  your  stocks,  you  could  have  two  hundred  thous 
and,"  Hubert  replied. 

"Besides  the  interest  on  the  bonds?" 

"Certainly.     I  never  figure  on  that." 

"What  about  the  Arizona  mines  ?  " 

"Well,  the  men  say  they  are  yet  la  prospect]  but  a  very  good 
one.  Their  proposition  is  that  you  pay  them  five  hundred 
dollars  down  if  you  accept  their  proposal.  Then  you  are  to 
send  an  expert  to  examine  the  mines.  If  on  his  report  you 
conclude  to  buy  them  at  once,  you  can  have  them  for  ten 
thousand  dollars.  If  you  prefer  to  bond  them  to  prospect 
further  before  buying,  then  you  can  have  six  months  to  pros 
pect;  but  then  you  must  pay  two  thousand  down,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  six  months  you  must  pay  fifty  thousand  dollars  if 
you  want  both  mines,  or  twenty  thousand  if  you  only  take  one. 
The  shaft  they  have  sunk  is  the  dividing  line  between  the  two 
mines." 

"Between  the  two  prospects,"  Clarence  suggested. 

"Yes,  that  is  more  proper,  the  shaft  is  only  about  one  hun 
dred  feet  deep.  But  you  had  better  talk  to  them.  They 
brought  rock  similar  to  that  which  they  sent  me  last  month." 

Rather  rough  looking  men  were  the  three  waiting,  but  all 
had  good  faces.  After  exchanging  salutations  with  them,  Clar 
ence  asked : 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  133 

"Have  you  had  any  assays  made?" 

"Yes  sir,"  said  the  oldest  of  the  three  handing  to  him  three 
slips  of  paper.  "Here  are  three  certificates  from  assayers  rec 
ommended  to  us  as  the  best  in  San  Francisco." 

"What !  One  hundred  silver  and  one  hundred  and  fifty 
gold?  And  two  hundred,  and  three  hundred  and  fifty?  But 
that  is  enormous  for  surface  rock." 

•The  miners  laughed.     The  oldest  said  : 

"And  the  ledge  is  so  wide  that  it  almost  takes  the  half  of 
the  hill.  We  took  two  claims  and  put  our  prospect  shaft  in 
the  middle." 

"Did  you  make  your  locations  in  good  legal  form?"  was 
the  next  question. 

"Yes  sir,  we  have  our  papers,"  said  the  spokesman,  handing 
to  Clarence  some  papers. 

"I  see  you  are  four  partners,  where  is  the  other?" 

"He  is  at  the  mine,  working  at  the  shaft." 

"Well  gentlemen,"  Clarence  said,  "I  have  just  come,  an 
hour  ago.  I  don't  know  how  soon  I  will  find  an  expert,  but  I 
think  I  will  do  so  between  now  and  to-morrow  by  mid-day.  I 
will  consult  with  him  and  see  how  soon  he  can  go  to  look  at 
your  mines.  Meantime  I'll  have  some  of  the  rock  assayed. 
From  what  depth  was  the  rock  assayed  taken  ?  " 

"From  fifty,  seventy  and  ninety  feet.  We  have  some  few 
pieces  from  the  last  we  took  the  day  we  left,  at  a  depth  of  one 
hundred  feet."  So  saying,  he  handed  to  Clarence  other  pieces 
of  rock  which  looked  much  richer,  adding,  "This  is  the  ore 
we  have  not  had  assayed  yet.  My  opinion  is  that  the  rock 
hasn't  changed  much." 

It  was  agreed  that  Clarence  would  meet  them  at  eleven  next 
morning  and  notify  them  if  he  had  found  an  expert.  When 
they  had  left  the  room  Clarence  asked  Hubert  where  his 
brother  Fred  was. 

"He  is  here,  he  came  yesterday." 

"And  you  did  not  mention  that  fact  to  me,  when  you  know 
I  want  a  good,  reliable  expert." 


134  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"I  did  not,  because  I  wouldn't  urge  his  services  upon  any 
one — even  you — and  then  I  think  he  might  be  already  engaged 
to  go  to  examine  some  mines  in  Nevada,  as  parties  have  been 
looking  for  him  for  that  purpose." 

"Please  don't  be  so  proud  as  to  deprive  me  of  the  services 
of  so  good  a  man,  but  tell  him  to  come  to  my  hotel  at  once." 

"Very  well,  I'll  tell  him,  but  he  will  not  be  here  until  five 
o'clock.  Shall  I  tell  him  to  call  on  you  after  dinner  ?  " 

"Yes,  at  half-past  seven  exactly,  to  send  his  card  to  me  to 
any  place  I  may  be  at  the  hotel.  And  now  I'll  go  to  have  two 
or  three  assays  more  of  this  rock.  Remember,  I  shall  be  look 
ing  for  Fred  at  half-past  seven." 

"I'll  remember.     He  will  be  there  promptly." 

It  was  very  evident  that  the  "party  from  San  Diego"  made  an 
impression  and  quite  a  stir  among  the  guests  of  the  hotel,  who 
were  at  dinner  when  they  entered  the  dining-room.  Preceded 
by  the  head  waiter,  they  had  to  cross  the  entire  length  of  the 
room,  for  the  seats  assigned  to  them  were  at  the  furthest  cor 
ner  from  the  door.  Everybody  turned  to  Ic-ok,  to  see  what 
everybody  else  was  looking  at,  and  all  acknowledged  that  they 
had  never  seen  handsomer  or  more  graceful  people  than 
those  two  couples.  Exclamations  of  surprise  were  uttered 
in  suppressed  tones,  and  unqualified  praises  were  whispered 
everywhere.  The  head  waiter  was  called  here  and  there  to  say 
who  these  four  people  were,  so  very  handsome  and  distingue. 

"They  are  from  Southern  California,  on  their  way  east.  Mr. 
George  Mechlin  and  bride,  her  sister,  and  their  friend  Mr.  Dar- 
rell,  travelling  with  them,"  was  the  answer  that  the  steward 
had  to  give  twenty  times. 

"Which  is  the  bride,  the  blonde  or  the  brunette  £  " 

"The  brunette." 

After  dinner  several  young  gentlemen  remained  in  the  cor 
ridors  to  see  them  pass,  and  some  four  eastern  tourists  who 
were  dining  at  the  next  table,  made  a  pretext  of  drinking 
more  wine,  to  remain  looking  at  the  southern  beauties.  One 
of  them  especially  looked  at  Mercedes  so  persistently  that 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  135 

Clarence  began  to  feel  angry,  and  when  they  arose  from  the 
table  he  looked  at  the  admirer  with  a  bold  stare  of  defiant 
reproval.  But  that  in  no  way  checked  the  admiration  of  the 
New  Yorker,  and  he  followed  as  near  to  Mercedes  as  he  could, 
and  when  he  saw  her  disappear  into  her  parlor,  he  looked  at 
the  number  on  the  door  and  went  straight  to  the  office  to 
make  all  the  enquiries  he  could  concerning  those  two  beauti 
ful  ladies.  The  clerk  gave  all  the  information  he  could,  and 
added  laughing : 

"I  have  had  to  answer  those  questions  a  dozen  times  al 
ready." 

Immediately  after  dinner  a  waiter  came  from  the  office  and 
handed  to  Clarence  a  card,  with  "Fred  Haverly"  written 
on  it. 

"Say  to  the  gentleman  I  shall  be  down  immediately,"  Clar 
ence  said  to  the  servant ;  and  then  to  George,  "  This  is  the 
expert  I  want  to  send  to  Arizona.  It  is  lucky  for  me  to  find 
him  in  town." 

"I'll  go  down  with  you,"  George  said.  "  One  of  the  clerks 
promised  to  get  me  a  box  at  the  opera,  or  if  that  can't  be  had, 
to  get  the  four  best  seats  he  could  find  disengaged.  Do  you 
think  you  will  have  finished  with  your  expert  in  half  an  hour  ? 
I  want  the  girls  to  see  the  opera  bouffe;  they  have  never 
seen  it." 

"  I  shall  be  with  you  in  fifteen  minutes,"  was  the  reply. 

George  was  talking  with  the  clerk  about  the  seats  at  the 
opera,  when  he  felt  a  hand  laid  softly  on  his  shoulder.  Look 
ing  back,  he  saw  his  friend,  Charles  Gunther,  of  New  York, 
standing  by  him,  and  behind  him  the  four  gentlemen  who  had 
dined  at  the  next  table.  After  shaking  hands  most  cordially, 
and  congratulating  him  on  being  a  married  man,  Gunther  pre 
sented  to  George  his  four  friends,  and  his  brother  Robert,  who 
now  came  in;  then  he  said : 

"I  heard  you  say  you  wanted  a  box  at  the  opera,  and  that 
there  are  ladies  with  you.  Permit  me  to  offer  you  our  box, 
we  can  take  seats  anywhere  else.  I  shall  be  glad  if  you  will 
accept." 


T36  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"  But  there  are  no  seats  that  you  can  have  that  I  would  offer 
you  in  exchange,"  was  George's  reply. 

"  Those  I  got  for  you  are  good  seats  for  gentlemen,"  the 
clerk  suggested,  "and  I  think  you  can  get  two  more." 

Gunther  was  so  urgent  that  George,  only  by  being  very  rude, 
could  have  declined  making  the  exchange.  There  was  noth 
ing  else  to  do  but  accept,  order  a  carriage  for  eight  o'clock, 
and  then  go  up  stairs  to  tell  the  ladies  that  they  were  to  get 
ready  for  the  opera. 

"The  opera!  Why  didn't  you  tell  us  before?"  was  Elvira's 
exclamation. 

"Because  I  was  not  sure  I  could  get  seats,"  was  George's 
reply;  and  he  then  explained  how  he  obtained  their  box  by 
casually  meeting  Gunther,  adding :  "  By  the  by,  he  introduced 
me  to  his  brother  Robert  and  those  four  admirers  of  yours, 
Mercedes,  who  dined  at  the  next  table.  They  are  all  of  the 
same  party.  The  young  fellow  of  the  little  saffron  whiskers,  who 
stared  at  you  so  persistently,  making  Clarence's  ears  red,  is  a 
Mr.  Selden,  of  New  York;  he  and  Robert  Gunther  have  been 
in  Europe  several  years.  His  father  I  know  is  a  millionaire, 
and  he  is  the  only  son.  So  he  considers  himself  a  good  catch, 
I  suppose,  Sefiorita  Mercedes." 

"Bah!"  ejaculated  Mercedes;  "who  cares!" 

"Be  ready  with  your  hats  and  cloaks  on  at  five  minutes 
to  eight.  Clarence  and  I  will  come  for  you.  I  am  going  to 
look  for  him  now,  and  see  Gunther  for  a  few  moments,"  George 
said,  leaving  the  two  sisters  to  go  to  their  bed-rooms  to  delve 
for  their  opera  cloaks  and  white  hats  in  the  deep  recesses  of 
their  Saratoga  trunks. 

"  It  is  a  lucky  thing  for  me  that  Lizzie's  aunt  sent  this  pretty 
cloak  and  bonnet  to  her.  Poor  Lizzie !  I  am  to  splurge  in  her 
fine  Parisian  things,  while  she  remains  at  the  rancho,  buried 
alive,"  said  Mercedes. 

"She  is  perfectly  willing  to  have  that  sort  of  burial  as  long 
as  she  has  Gabriel  near  her." 

Mrs.  Lawrence  Mechlin  had  sent  to  Elvira  and  Lizzie  their 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  137 

wedding  trousseau,  which  she  ordered  from  Paris.  To  do  this 
was  a  pleasure  to  Mrs.  Mechlin,  which  she  could  well  afford, 
being  rich,  and  which  she  delighted  in,  being  devoted  to  her 
sister's  children. 

The  theatre  was  filled  to  its  utmost  capacity  when  our  four 
San  Dieguinos  arrived  and  occupied  their  proscenium  box, 
which  was  on  the  left  of  the  auditorium,  very  roomy  and  ele 
gantly  furnished.  Elvira's  seat  faced  the  stage,  and  Mercedes' 
faced  the  audience,  so  that  the  perfect  contour  of  her  features 
was  clearly  seen  when  she  looked  at  the  actors.  Between  the 
sisters  sat  their  cavaliers.  The  curtain  rose  as  they  took  their 
seats,  so  that  not  one  of  them  gave  a  thought  to  the  audience, 
until  the  curtain  fell  on  the  first  act. 

Then  they  all  looked  at  the  house  which  was  filled  with  a 
brilliant  audience.  Immediately  in  front,  in  the  first  row  of 
orchestra  chairs,  were  Mr.  Gunther  and  the  party  of  New 
Yorkers.  They  were  all  looking  at  their  box.  Mercedes 
blushed  when  she  met  the  steady  gaze  of  Mr.  Selden,  and  his 
face  reproduced  the  blush,  while  his  heart  beat  with  wild  throbs 
of  delight.  Clarence's  face  also  flushed,  and  then  turned 
pale.  He  had  seen  the  two  blush,  and  a  cold  feeling  of  un- 
definable  fear  and  savageness  seized  him — a  desire  to  go  and 
choke  Mr.  Selden  where  he  was — right  there  in  his  orchestra 
chair. 

George  by  this  time  was  exchanging  bows  with  the  New 
Yorkers.  They  spoke  among  themselves,  and  soon  after  all 
arose  and  left  their  seats. 

"  I  think  Gunther  is  bringing  his  brother  and  friends  to  pre 
sent  them  to  you,  ladies,"  said  George. 

"Being  your  friends,  we  shall  be  pleased  to  see  them,"  El 
vira  answered. 

"  I  hope  those  gentlemen  will  cease  to  stare  when  they  are 
acquainted.  That  young  man  of  the  red  whiskers  made  me 
blush  by  looking  at  me  so  steadily.  I  hope  that  that  is  not  the 
custom  of  New  Yorkers,"  said  Mercedes. 

"I  am  afraid  it  is.  You  had  better  try  to  get  used  to  it,  and 
don't  mind  it,"  George  replied. 


138  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

Mr.  Gunther  now  presented  himself  at  the  door,  followed 
by  his  brother  and  the  four  others,  already  well  known  by 
sight,  the  ceremony  of  introduction  being  performed  by 
George,  with  the  ease  and  grace  of  one  used  to  those  society 
duties.  All  took  seats,  there  being  room  enough  for  a  dozen 
people  in  the  spacious  box. 

George  and  Clarence  had  left  their  seats  to  receive  the 
guests,  so  very  naturally  Mr.  Selden  slipped  by  and  sat  next 
to  Mercedes. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
OF  MISCELLANEOUS  INCIDENTS. 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  opera — are  you  enjoying  it 
much?"  asked  Mr.  Selden,  by  way  of  opening  conversation, 
having  turned  his  chair  to  face  Mercedes. 

"I  am  enjoying  the  novelty  of  the  thing,  but  I  don't  know 
what  I  shall  think  of  the  opera.  I  suppose  I  shall  like  it  better 
when  I  understand  it.  Thus  far  it  is  to  me  only  a  very  puzzling 
maze  of  hastily  uttered  French,  imperfectly  heard  and  mixed  with 
music,  all  of  which  is  rather  unintelligible  to  me,  so  unprepared 
to  judge  of  it  as  I  am,"  said  Mercedes,  smiling,  watching  to 
see  the  effect  that  her  candid  avowal  of  ignorance  would  have 
upon  such  a  "muscadin"  and  well  traveled  young  man. 

"Ah  !  you  never  saw  the  opera  before  to-night!  " 

"Not  the  French  opera.  I  was  at  two  matinees  of  the  Ital 
ian  opera  about  five  years  ago,  when  I  left  my  San  Francisco 
school.  Mamma  thought  I  was  too  young  to  go  out  at  night, 
and  since"  then  I  have  been  living  at  the  rancho" 

"Yes,  yes;  Mr.  Mechlin  said  you  had  not  been  in  San  Fran 
cisco  since  you  were  twelve  months  old." 

"Twelve  months?" 

A  laugh  immediately  behind  him,  made  Mr.  Selden  turn 
quickly  around.  He  met  the  eyes  of  Mr.  Robert  Gunther, 
who  had  taken  the  chair  next  to  him,  and  made  no  secret  of 
being  amused  at  Mr.  Selden's  mistake. 

"What  are  you  laughing  at?"  Mr.  Selden- asked,  sharply. 

"I  suppose  Mr.  Gunther  thinks  that  girls  must  grow  very 
quickly  in  California  if  I  was  twelve  months  old  five  years  ago." 

Mr.  Selden  could  not  escape  now  the  raillery  of  his  friends. 
Each  one  had  something  to  say  on  the  subject  of  Mr.  Selden's 


140  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

ideas  of  the  wonders  of  California,  until  the  bell  rung  for  the 
curtain  to  rise  for  the  second  act. 

They  all  arose  to  go.  George  said:  "Will  not  some  of  you 
remain  ?  there  is  room  for  two  or  three  more." 

"  If  I  am  not  going  to  crowd  you,  I  shall  accept  your  kind 
invitation  and  hide  about  here,"  said  Robert  Gunther,  taking 
a  chair  behind  Elvira. 

"Bob  Gunther  is  always  such  a  good  boy  that  I  always  like 
to  follow  his  example;  so,  with  your  kind  permission,  Mr. 
Darrell,  I  shall  sit  here  behind  you.  Keep  your  chair,"  said 
Mr.  Selden,  refusing  to  change  seats  with  Clarence. 

But  Mercedes  saw  that  this  arrangement  was  not  as  satisfac 
tory  as  might  be,  so  she  moved  her  chair,  and  making  room 
for  Clarence  on  her  left,  told  Mr.  Selden  to  push  his  chair  fur 
ther  to  the  front,  on  her  right.  This  was  a  more  desirable  dis 
tribution,  and  it  pleased  Clarence  better,  for  she  would  turn 
her  face  to  him  on  looking  at  the  stage.  Still,  there  was  that 
odious  little  fellow  with  his  red  mutton  chops  sitting  so  near 
her,  that  he  wanted  to  pitch  him  out  of  the  box.  Mercedes 
watched  for  an  opportunity  to  say  to  him : 

"You  look  unhappy;  have  I  done  anything  to  displease 
you?" 

"No,  never!"  he  quickly  answered,  but  did  not  dare  to  look 
at  her.  Presently  he  added:  "It  is  too  painful  to  think  that 
only  for  one  day  more  I  can  see  you,  then  we  must  part,  and — 
and  others  will  be  with  you." 

"Could  you  not  go  with  us  as  far  as  the  Yosemite?" 

Clarence  turned  quickly  to  look  at  her,  and  her  eyes  had 
that  sweet,  loving  expression  which,  to  him,  was  always  irre 
sistible,  entrancing.  He  bad  never  seen  it  in  any  other  eyes, 
and  in  hers  only  very  seldom. 

"Oh!  if  you  will  only  let  me." 

"Let  you!     Your  pleasure  is  the  only  thing  to  consult." 

"Then  I  know  what  I  shall  do." 

#          *          *          *          *•#**# 

Neither  Mr.  Selden  nor  Mr.  Gunther  could  sleep  that  night. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  141 

Those  little  golden  curls  over  the  blue  eyes  floated  in  a  hazy 
mist  and  music  in  tantalizing  recurrence  until  dawn. 

"Did  you  make  a  satisfactory  bargain?"  George  asked  Clar 
ence  next  morning,  when  the  ladies  had  gone  to  church. 

"Yes,  as  far  as  we  can  see  at  present.  I  am  to  send  an  ex 
pert  to  look  at  the  mines  to-morrow,  and  on  his  report  will  de 
cide  what  to  do.  But  I  am  in  a  quandary  now  about  one  thing. 
Have  you  positively  decided  to  leave  to-morrow  at  seven  A.M.?" 

"If  we  don't  oversleep  ourselves,"  was  George's  reply.  "But 
that  depends.  Why  do  you  ask?  If  by  waiting  a  few  days 
we  can  have  your  company  further  on,  we  will  wait,  of  course. 
The  girls  are  enjoying  themselves  very  much,  and  will  be  glad 
to  wait  for  you." 

"Thanks,  thanks,"  said  Clarence,  warmly.  "Yes,  I  would 
like  to  go  as  far  as  the  Yosemite  with  you;  but  as  I  would  like 
to  have  one  final  talk  with  the  miners  to-morrow  before  I  pay 
them  any  money,  I  would  be  much  obliged  if  you  could  wait 
until  Tuesday  morning." 

"Most  willingly,  my  dear  fellow,  particularly  as  these  sefio- 
ritas  are  not  in  a  hurry  to  leave  fascinating  San  Francisco." 

"We  have  not  driven  anywhere  around  the  city,  and  Miss 
Mercedes  wishes  to  see  more  of  San  Francisco,"  said  Clarence, 
"as  she  has  not  seen  it  since  she  was  twelve  months  old" 

"  Poor  Selden;  those  fellows  will  never  cease  laughing  at  his 
mistake,"  George  said. 

After  mass,  our  travelers  went  immediately  to  luncheon.  At 
their  table  were  already  seated  the  six  New  Yorkers,  but  four 
chairs  were  carefully  turned,  in  token  of  being  reserved.  Clar- 
'ence  sat  next  to  Mercedes,  but  Selden  was  opposite,  and  anx 
iously  expected  the  moment  when  she  would  lift  her  veil.  He 
dreaded  to  be  disenchanted  by  finding  her  to  be  less  beautiful 
in  daylight,  but  such  was  not  the  case.  She  appeared  to  him 
even  prettier,  seeing  better  the  lovely  dark  blue  of  her  eyes. 
He  looked  at  her  in  silence,  saying  to  himself  mentally:  "She 
is  exquisite ;  am  I  going  to  love  her  hopelessly ! "  And  he 
looked  at  Clarence  with  a  pang  of  jealousy,  for  he  could  not 


142  THE   SQUATTER  AND   THE   DON. 

deny  to  himself  that  he  was  handsome,  yes,  beautiful  as  an 
Apollo,  and  very  manly. 

Next  to  Selden  sat  Robert  Gunther,  making  almost  the  same 
mental  observations,  and  resolving  to  try  and  win  her  in  spite 
of  all  obstacles. 

Luncheon  was  much  enjoyed  by  all  excepting  Mr.  Selden, 
who  seemed  to  get  more  and  more  nervous  as  he  sat  there 
trying  not  to  look  at  Mercedes  as  much  as  he  wished. 

The  Gunther  brothers  were  very  brilliant  conversationalists, 
and  so  was  George,  who  was  in  his  element  in  the  company  of 
such  polished  gentlemen  as  were  now  before  him.  On  leaving 
the  table,  Mr.  Charles  Gunther  begged  Elvira's  permission  to  pay 
their  respects,  asking  if  it  would  suit  her  convenience  for  them 
to  call  that  evening  after  dinner,  to  which  she  gracefully  as 
sented,  and  all  walked  towards  the  parlor. 

"Shall  we  go  to  the  Cliff  House  this  afternoon?"  George 
asked  his  wife. 

"You  may,  but  Mercedes  and  I  are  going  to  vespers,"  she 
replied,  and  soon  after  the  two  sisters  retired  to  their  rooms. 

As  all  of  the  gentlemen  walked  down  to  the  reading  room, 
Selden  said:  "And  how  in  thunder  are  we  going  to  kill  time 
this  afternoon  until  dinner?  It  will  be  intensely  stupid  here." 

"I  thought  we  all  were  going  to  drive  to  the  Cliff,"  Bob 
Gunther  said,  maliciously.  "Perhaps  you  would  rather  go  to 
church." 

"You  judge  others  by  yourself,"  Selden  retorted. 

"I  believe  I  do.  But  our  sudden  access  of  religion,  I  fear, 
would  not  be  appreciated.  My  dear  fellow,  our  piety,  like  that 
of  his  satanic  majesty,  would  be  distrusted.  It  would  edify- 
no  one,  only  make  us  ridiculous.  Let  us  go  to  the  Cliff." 

And  to  the  Cliff  all  went,  but  the  drive  was  not  much  en 
joyed.  Bob  and  Selden  were  quarrelsome,  and  all  the  others 
laughed  at  them,  which  ended  by  making  them  surly.  Selden 
ridiculed  the  San  Franciscans  for  their  stupid  Cliff  House,  while 
all  sat  in  arm-chairs  on  the  broad  veranda  and  looked  at  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  and  Pacific  sea  lions,  and  Pacific  rocks,  and 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  143 

thought  them  all  equally  monotonous.  To  watch  the  ugly  sea 
beasts  awkwardly  dragging  their  unwieldly  hulks  up  the  rocks, 
there  to  spread  themselves  in  the  sun,  was  not  a  very  exhilarat 
ing  spectacle  for  young  gentlemen  who  desired  to  see  other 
kinds  of  lions.  Sunday  not  being  the  fashionable  day  for  San 
Franciscans  to  drive  to  the  Cliff,  the  New  Yorkers  concluded 
that  the  elite  would  not  be  seen  that  afternoon  and  returned 
to  the  hotel. 

After  dinner  several  lady  friends,  who  had  received  Elvira's 
wedding  cards  and  had  seen  her  and  Mercedes  at  church  that 
morning,  called. 

The  cards  of  the  New  Yorkers,  also,  were  brought,  and  they 
followed  immediately.  Elvira  presented  them  very  gracefully, 
while  George  watched  with  delighted  attention  the  perfect  ease 
and  natural  elegance  with  which  she  did  the  honors  as  hostess. 

Robert  Gunther  and  Arthur  Selden  seated  themselves  in  a 
corner,  on  the  right  of  Mercedes'  chair,  but  Clarence  held  his 
place  on  the  end  of  the  sofa,  very  near  her. 

About  ten  o'clock,  Mr.  Charles  Gunther  said  to  them : 

"Much  as  it  pains  me  to  tear  myself  away,  young  men,  it 
must  be  done,  for  we  have  made  a  first  call  of  nearly  two 
hours'  duration." 

"It  has  not  seemed  to  us  nearly  so  long,"  Mercedes  said. 

"It  was  no  more  than  two  minutes,"  Bob  Gunther  added. 

"  How  you  exaggerate,"  Mr.  Selden  exclaimed. 

"Ask  him  how  long  it  has  seemed  to  him,"  Bob  suggested. 

"I  would  not  dare.  He  thinks  you  exaggerate,  that  is 
enough,"  replied  Mercedes. 

Selden  gave  her  a  look  of  tender  reproach,  and  a  savage  one 
at  Bob,  as  he  bowed,  leaving  the  room. 

By  nine  o'clock  Monday  morning  Clarence  had  received  the 
certificates  of  assay  he  had  ordered  on  Saturday  afternoon.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  there  must  be  a  mistake  somewhere  about 
the  rock,  for  these  assays  gave  even  a  higher  percentage  than 
those  shown  him  by  the  miners.  He  went  to  Hubert's  office 
and  found  Fred  already  there  waiting  for  him. 


144  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Look  here,  Hubert,  are  you  sure  that  these  men  did  not 
bring  us  this  rich  rock  from  some  other  mine?  The  assays  are 
very  high.  One  goes  as  high  as  $2000  per  ton." 

"They  might  have  selected  the  specimens,  but  I  can  vouch 
for  their  being  from  the  same  ledge,  for  I  know  the  rock.  I 
can  also  vouch  for  the  honesty  of  the  men,  for  I  know  them 
well;  besides,  what  would  be  the  good  of  telling  a  falsehood 
that  would  be  found  out  the  minute  the  expert  got  there?  Their 
reputation  is  worth  more  to  them  than  the  five  hundred  dol 
lars  that  you  will  pay  now,"  was  Hubert's  reply. 

"They  are  good  men.  I  have  known  them  for  years,  and 
have  had  them  working  with  me,"  Fred  added. 

"Then  let  us  finish  this  business  now,  for  I  go  out  of  town 
to-morrow  morning,"  Clarence  said,  and  in  half  an  hour  he 
had  explained  his  views  and  wishes  and  made  his  contract 
with  Fred  Haverly,  the  terms  of  which  had  been  already  men 
tioned  on  Saturday  night  and  Sunday  morning.  The  miners 
now  came  and  the  contract  with  them,  also,  was  made  and  ac 
knowledged  in  due  form. 

By  twelve  o'clock  that  day  Clarence  had  dispatched  his  busi 
ness  with  the  miners  and  with  Fred  Haverly,  reserving  until 
he  returned  instructio'ns  regarding  his  Alameda  farm. 

In  the  afternoon  all  drove  to  the  Cliff  House.  The  ugly 
sea  lions  did  not  seem  so  clumsy  to  Mr.  Selden,  as  Mercedes 
laughed,  amused  to  see  their  ungainly  efforts  at  locomotion, 
and  as  she  pronounced  the  Pacific  Ocean  to  be  grand  and  the 
wild  surf  dashing  madly  against  the  impassive  rocks  very  im 
pressive,  Mr.  Selden  was  of  the  same  way  of  thinking,  and 
found  the  sea  lions  rather  graceful  and  dignified,  the  black 
rocks  more  interesting  than  they  had  been  the  day  before. 

The  gayeties  of  San  Francisco  made  time  slip  away  magi 
cally,  and  a  week  passed  in  receptions,  drives  and  yacht  sailing, 
in  honor  of  Elvira,  seemed  very  short  indeed.  But  now  an 
other  week  had  begun,  and  the  journey  eastward  must  be 
resumed. 

Our  travelers  took  an  early  breakfast  on  Tuesday  morning, 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  145 

and  by  seven  o'clock  they  left  the  hotel.  Half  an  hour  later,  they 
were  on  the  Oakland  boat,  crossing  San  Francisco  Bay  on  their 
way  to  New  York. 

"There  is  plenty  of  room  here  for  all  the  navies  of  the 
world,"  George  observed,  looking  at  the  harbor. 

"Yes,  I  believe  the  bay  is  forty  miles  across,"  replied  Clar 
ence.  "  For  all  intents  and  purposes  at  present,  however,  San 
Diego  Bay  is  as  good  as  this." 

"Yes,  I  only  wish  we  had  commerce  enough  for  ships  to  be 
crowded  there." 

"  If  Colonel  Scott  succeeds  in  constructing  his  railroad,  there 
is  no  doubt  that  San  Diego  will  be  a  large  city  in  a  few  years." 

"  I  believe  that,  but  the  question  is,  will  Colonel  Scott  suc 
ceed?" 

"  I  think  he  will,  but  he  has  a  hard  crowd  to  fight." 

Clarence  mused  a  little,  then,  changing  his  position  so  as  to 
face  George,  said: 

"  I  have  had  an  idea  in  my  head,  a  sort  of  project,  I  want  to 
talk  to  you  about.  Of  course,  its  practicability,  I  fear,  will 
entirely  depend  upon  the  building  of  the  Texas  Pacific  Rail 
road;  for  if  San  Diego  is  not  to  have  population,  my  plan  will 
be  impracticable.  It  is  this :  The  two  banks  in  San  Diego,  I 
don't  think,  have  a  paid-up  capital  of  more  than  a  hundred 
thousand  dollars.  I  think  we  could  establish  a  bank  of  two  or 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars  that  would  be  a  paying  insti 
tution.  I  heard  you  say  that  you  thought  you  would  like  to 
come  to  California,  so  as  to  be  near  your  family.  That  gave 
me  the  idea  of  starting  a  bank.  You  could  be  the  president 
and  manager,  and  I  would  furnish  as  much  of  the  capital  as 
suited  you." 

"Your  idea  is  splendid,  nothing  could  suit  me  better;  but  I 
suppose  we  will  have  to  see  whether  we  are  to  have  a  railroad 
or  not." 

"Yes,  that  is  the  sole  and  unavoidable  condition." 

"  I  suppose  we  will  know  next  winter,  and  if  it  be  decided 
that  the  Texas  Pacific  is  to  be  built,  I  will  immediately  accept 
your  proposition,  and  put  in  some  money  with  you." 


146  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

"  I  can  take  half,  or  a  third  of  the  stock,  and  put  in  some 
money  for  Don  Gabriel  and  Victoriano ;  and  Everett  can  come 
in,  too.  You  can  easily  instruct  Don  Gabriel  in  the  banking 
business." 

"He  would  make  a  good  cashier;  he  is  a  good  bookkeeper 
already.  I  think  I  could  put  in  twenty-five  or  thirty  thousand 
dollars." 

"  If  you  put  in  twenty-five  thousand,  I  will  put  in  that  much 
for  each  of  the  others,  Don  Gabriel,  Tano  and  Retty,  and  one 
hundred  thousand  for  myself,  or  will  put  in  thirty  thousand  for 
Don  Gabriel  and  ninety-five  thousand  for  myself." 

"You  ought  to  be  the  president." 

"No,  I  want  you  and  Don  Gabriel  to  have  the  entire  man 
agement.  You  can  take  in  Tano  and  Retty,  if  you  like,  if  they 
prove  themselves  efficient;  but  as  for  myself,  I  want  to  be  free 
to  attend  to  those  mines  (if  they  are  worth  working)  and  take 
care  of  my  Alameda  farm.  Don't  you  think  that  two  hundred 
thousand  will  be  enough  to  start  ?  I  can  put  in  more,  if  neces 
sary,  by  selling  some  of  my  United  States  bonds.  I  have  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  in  United  States  securities,  which 
I  can  convert  into  money  at  any  time." 

"Two  hundred  thousand  is  more  than  enough.  We  can 
increase  the  capital,  if  we  wish,  afterward.  I  am  glad  you  are 
so  well  fixed  in  government  securities." 

"  I  could  have  had  a  round  million  if  I  had  not  sold  my 
stock  too  soon;  but  my  father  kept  talking  to  me  so  much 
against  dealing  in  mining  stocks,  that  I  ordered  Hubert  Haverly 
to  sell  all  I  had.  Fortunately  he  held  on  for  a  few  days  to  my 
Crown  Point,  and  sold  for  nine  hundred  thousand  dollars.  I 
was  sorry  enough  to  have  lost  a  million  for  being  so  obedient 
a  son,  and  when  in  that  mood  I  promised  Hubert  I  would  not 
interfere  again,  but  let  him  manage  my  stocks  as  he  thought 
best.  Since  then  he  has  done  very  well,  so  that  now  I  have 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  in  United  States  bonds,  my 
farm,  for  which  Hubert  paid  ninety  thousand,  some  town  lots 
in  San  Francisco,  and  about  one  hundred  and  sixty  thousand 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  147 

dollars  in  bank,  besides  the  interest  on  my  bonds,  which  I  have 
not  drawn  for  over  a  year." 

"  Why,  that  makes  you  worth  over  a  million." 

"Yes,  but  if  I  had  kept  my  Crown  Point  for  a  few  days 
longer  I  could  have  sold  for  a  million  and  a  half.  However,  I 
think  the  Arizona  mines  will  reward  my  filial  obedience,"  added 
he,  smiling,  "  and  if  we  can  start  that  bank  I  shall  be  satisfied. 
I  think  it  is  a  pity  that  such  men  as  Don  Mariano  and  his  sons 
do  not  have  some  other  better-paying  business  than  cattle-rais 
ing.  It  used  to  pay  well,  but  I  fear  it  never  will  again,  while 
such  absurdities  as  the  ' No-Fence  Laws'1  are  allowed  to 
exist." 

"  Yes,  I  heard  Don  Mariano  say  to  my  father :  '  I  am  sure 
I  am  to  be  legislated  into  a  rancheria,  as  there  is  no  poor-house 
in  San  Diego  to  put  me  into,'  he  said  it  smiling,  but  his  smile 
was  very  sad.  However,  when  the  appeal  is  dismissed  and  he 
is  rid  of  squatters,  he  will  recuperate,  provided,  of  course,  there 
be  a  Texas  Pacific  to  make  San  Diego  lands  valuable.  Without 
it  the  prospect  is  gloomy  indeed,  I  may  well  say  dead." 

"That's  it;  it  all  depends  upon  that  railroad,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  when  we  are  so  powerless  to  counteract  hostile  influences." 

"  We  must  hope  and  wait." 


CHAPTER  XV. 
JOURNEYING  OVERLAND. 

The  crashing  and  thundering  of  Yosemite's  falls  plunging 
from  dizzy  heights,  in  splendor  of  furious  avalanches,  had  been 
left  behind. 

George  and  his  three  companions  had  given  the  last  linger 
ing  look  towards  the  glorious  rainbows  and  myriads  of  daz 
zling  gems  glittering  in  the  sun's  rays,  which  pierced  the  verti 
cal  streams  and  played  through  the  spray  and  mist  enveloping 
them. 

The  memory  of  the  mirror  lakes,  with  their  gorgeous  bor 
ders  of  green,  their  rich  bouquets  of  fragrant  azaleas  and  pond 
lilies,  as  well  as  the  towering  cliffs,  the  overpowering  heights 
of  that  wonderful  valley,  all  made  a  picture  to  remain  forever- 
more  a  cherished  souvenir. 

But  alas,  for  the  fatality  of  human  joys,  all  is  evanescent  in 
this  world  of  ours;  the  moment  of  parting  at  last  came  for  the 
lovers. 

The  west-bound  train  would  pass  the  station  first,  so  Clar 
ence  must  be  the  one  to  leave  his  friends. 

"Write  to  us  soon,  won't  you  ?  "  George  said. 

"Certainly,  as  soon  as  I  get  to  San  Diego." 

"Write  before,  and  let  us  know  what  you  are  doing." 

"All  right,  I  will  do  so,"  said  he,  and  looked  at  Mercedes, 
who  with  down-cast  eyes,  felt  his  gaze  but  dared  not  look  up. 

"Don't  fail  to  write  the  long  letter  you  promised,  after  you 
have  your  talk  with  papa,  and  he  has  explained  to  mamma 
your  position,"  Elvira  said. 

"That  is  my  all-absorbing  thought.  There  is  no  danger  of 
my  failing  to  see  Don  Mariano  the  first  minute  I  can  do  so.  I 
will  write  immediately.  To  whom  shall  I  direct  my  letter  ?" 


THE   SQUATTER  AND   THE   DON.  149 

"To  me,  of  course,"  Elvira  replied,  "and  you  will  write  to 
Mercita  also,  after  matters  have  been  explained  to  mamma." 

The  distant  rumbling  as  if  of  coming  earthquake,  and  a  far  off 
shriek  were  now  heard.  In  another  minute  the  round-eyed 
monster  was  there,  and  snorting  maliciously,  rushed  off  with 
Clarence,  leaving  Mercedes  leaning  on  George's  arm,  scarcely 
able  to  stand,  and  hardly  realizing  that  Clarence  had  left 
them. 

She  was  still  very  pale,  and  her  hands  yet  trembled,  when  the 
thundering  of  the  east-bound  train  was  heard  in  the  distance. 
Two. shrieks  pierced  the  air  simultaneously,  as  the  two  trains 
passed  each  other.  Her  heart  gave  accelerated  throbs  when 
she  heard  those  shrieks,  because  she  knew  that  one  of  them 
came  from  the  train  which  bore  Clarence  away,  and  it  seemed 
to  her  as  if  expressive  of  his  pain  at  being  torn  from  her. 
Yes,  that  magician,  the  locomotive,  understood  it  all,  and 
shrieked  to  say  he  did  so,  because  he  knew  she,  too,  wished  to 
shriek  like  that. 

What  would  you,  my  reader?  She  was  so  young — only  sev 
enteen — and  in  love.  The  poor  child  was  naturally  indulging 
in  all  sorts  of  foolish  fancies  while  looking  at  the  woods  through 
which  he  had  disappeared. 

But  there  was  now  the  east-bound  train,  and  George  taking 
her  towards  it. 

He  laughed  loudly  as  they  walked  to  the  cars,  and  Elvira 
asked  why  he  laughed. 

"I  declare,  Mercedes,  you  must  have  fascinated  those  two 
fellows  more  than  is  good  for  them— for  there  they  are  as  large 
as  life." 

"Who,  George?"  Elvira  asked. 

"Why,  who  should  it  be  but  Selden  and  Bob  Gunther." 

"  Oh !"  ejaculated  Mercedes.  "Please  George  get  a  com 
partment  where  we  can  be  by  ourselves,"  implored  she. 

"I  will ;  you  shall  have  it  if  money  or  influence  or  anything 
short  of  murder  can  get  it,"  said  he,  helping  them  up  the  car 
steps.  "  But  in  the  meantime  I  am  going  to  locate  you  here, 


150  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

while  I  go  to  interview  the  conductor  and  porter.  This  is  the 
last  car — you  will  be  here  unobserved.  Those  fellows  did  not 
see  us  get  in."  So  saying,  George  went  off,  laughing  heartily. 

Neither  conductor  nor  porter  were  to  be  found  in  the  next 
car,  or  the  next  to  that,  and  George  made  his  way  through  them 
as  quickly  as  their  jolting  and  swinging  permitted. 

At  the  further  end  of  the  fourth  car  he  spied  a  porter  talk 
ing  with  two  foreign-looking  gentlemen,  who  were  none  other 
than  Messrs.  Gunther  and  Selden.  Their  backs  were  turned 
toward  him,  so  he  had  time  to  approach  them  unobserved, 
near  enough  to  hear  Selden  say,  in  his  anglicised  accents  : 

"  But  my  good  fellah,  we  were  told  positively  that  travelers 
going  from  the  Yosemite  east  must  get  on  the  train  here." 

"And  so  they  do,"  George  said,  laying  his  hand  on  Selden's 
shoulder. 

"By  Jove!  we've  got  'em!"  ejaculated  Gunther. 

"Here  they  are,"  Selden  said,  with  radiant  face,  seizing  hold 
of  George's  hands,  which  he  shook  emphatically. 

"Look  here!  let  me  have  one  of  his  hands,  won't  you?"  said 
Gunther ;  "  what  an  all-absorbing  fellow  you  continue  to  be,  I 
am  sure." 

While  George  gave  a  hand  to  each,  he  told  the  porter  he 
wanted  a  compartment,  if  such  was  to  be  had. 

"  There  are  none  disengaged,  sir,  except  some  of  those  little 
ones  at  the  end  of  the  car,  which  no  one  wants;  but  you  can  have 
a  section  if  you  like,"  the  porter  replied. 

"I  have  that  already;  but  the  ladies  with  me  want  a  good, 
large  compartment." 

"We  have  one  which  we  will  be  most  happy  to  place  at  your 
service,"  Gunther  said. 

"And  rob  you  of  it.     That  wouldn't  be  fair." 

"Yes  it  would,  as  we  don't  care  for  it.  And  it  is  very 
nice  and  private,  and  the  ladies  should  have  it,"  Selden  said, 
warmly. 

As  the  section  which  George's  tickets  assigned  to  him  was 
the  very  next  to  the  apartment  in  question,  it  was  very  clear  to 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  15 1 

Mr.  Selden  that  no  arrangement  could  have  been  more  fortu 
nate,  and  he  said  so. 

The  three  then  went  to  bring  the  ladies  to  their  room. 
Mercedes  pleaded  a  headache,  and   George  knew  that  she 
wished  to  be  alone,  to  have  a  cry  all  to  herself,  as  most  girls 
would,  when  their  sweethearts  have  just  left  them.    So  he  said 
to  Elivira: 

"  Mercedes  had  better  lie  down  for  a  while.  If  she  sleeps 
she  will  feel  better." 

"  I  think  so ;  I  will  join  you  presently,"  Elvira  answered. 
And  hearing  this  the  gentlemen  retired. 

*  Mercedes  took  her  hat  and  gloves  and  cloak  off,  and  sat  at 
the  window  to  enjoy  her  misery  in  a  thorough  womanly  fash 
ion.  She  fixed  her  eyes  on  the  far-off,  flying  wall  of  verdure, 
seeing  nothing,  not  even  the  tall  trees  which,  close  by,  in 
dulged  in  such  grotesque  antics,  as  if  forgetting  their  stately 
dignity  only  to  amuse  her — making  dancing  dervishes  of  them 
selves,  and  converting  that  portion  of  the  Pacific  slope  into  a 
flying  gymnasium  to  perform  athletic  exercises,  rushing  on 
madly,  or  even  turning  somersaults  for  her  recreation. 

Elvira  left  her  alone  with  her  thoughts,  and  silently  devoted 
herself  to  unpacking  their  satchels,  arranging  their  toilet  things, 
traveling  shawls  and  night-dresses  and  comfortable  slippers  all 
in  their  proper  places.  She  then  took  her  hat  off,  and  tying  a 
large  black  veil  over  her  head  (Spanish  fashion),  told  her  sister 
to  sleep  if  she  could,  and  not  to  cry,  for,  after  all,  Clarence  would 
soon  be  in  New  York. 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  said  Mercedes'  sad  voice. 

"Of  course,  I  do.  Clarence  is  too  energetic  and  too  much 
in  love  to  be  kept  away." 

"But  mamma — you  know  mamma's  feelings." 

"  Which  will  be  entirely  changed  when  she  hears  that  Clar 
ence  is  no  squatter.  Leave  all  that  to  papa.  Come,  give  me 
a  kiss,  and  if  you  can't  sleep,  put  a  veil  over  your  head  and 
come  out.  I  am  going  to  join  the  gentlemen." 

"Yes,  darling,  you  go;  but  at  present  I'd  rather  sit  here  by 
the  window." 


15 2  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

And  she  sat  there,  but  the  sad  blue  orbs  saw  nothing — for 
her  mental  gaze  was  fixed  on  that  other  flying  train,  that  was 
rushing  away,  carrying  her  beloved  with  such  frightful  rapidity. 
She  felt,  she  knew,  Clarence  was  sitting  by  a  car  window,  think 
ing  of  her,  gazing  blankly  at  his  misery. 

And  so  he  was. 

It  is  to  be  feared  that  his  misery  would  have  been  greatly 
intensified  had  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Messrs.  Gunther  and 
Selden,  as  they  rushed  past  him  on  their  eastward  journey. 
This  aggravation,  however,  was  spared  him.  And,  as  when 
he  arrived  at  San  Francisco,  Charles  Gunther  and  his  three 
companions  had  already  left  for  Oregon,  Clarence  remained, 
for  the  present,  in  blissful  ignorance  of  the  whereabouts  of 
those  two  persistent  young  gentlemen,  traveling  so  near  Mer 
cedes. 

But  could  magician  of  old  have  shown  to  him  in  enchanted 
mirror  the  image  of  his  beloved,  he  would  have  read  in  those 
expressive  eyes  how  sadly  she  felt  his  absence. 

When  she  had  sat  there,  motionless,  for  two  hours,  Elvira 
came  to  tell  her  to  get  ready  for  dinner,  which  she  declined 
doing,  saying  that  she  was  not  a  bit  hungry.  And  so  the 
day  passed — the  night  came — and  she  did  not  gladden  the 
hearts  of  their  traveling  companions,  by  letting  them  see  her 
that  day.  Next  day  the  morning  hours  also  passed.  She  had 
her  breakfast  in  her  room. 

Mr.  Selden  began  to  feel  piqued  and  Mr.  Gunther  nervous. 
They  and  Elvira  were  playing  a  three-handed  game  of  casino; 
George  was  elsewhere,  talking  to  an  acquaintance  he  had 
met  on  the  train. 

Presently,  softly  and  unexpectedly,  the  sliding-door  of  the 
compartment  moved,  and  Mercedes  stood  beside  Mr.  Selden, 
sweet  as  a  rosebud,  smiling  in  her  most  bewitching  way.  The 
blood  mounted  to  Mr.  Selden's  temples,  and  those  of  Mr. 
Gunther's  assumed  the  same  hue.  Then  she,  of  course, 
blushed  also — for  she  could  never  see  any  one  blush  without 
doing  the  very  same  thing  herself. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  153 

Elvira  alone  kept  her  composure,  and  said:  "Why,  Baby!  I 
am  so  glad  you  feel  better.  Come,  take  a  hand,  for  these  gen 
tlemen  will  cut  your  sister's  throat,  or  she  theirs.  We  are 
having  a  fierce  battle." 

"All  right.  Will  you  have  me  for  a  partner,  Mr.  Gun- 
ther?  I  warn  you  that  I  am  a  very  poor  player,"  said  Mer 
cedes. 

"I'll  have  you  for  a  partner,  Miss  Mercedes,  on  any  terms, 
and  be  most  happy  to  do  so,"  said  Mr.  Gunther,  with  more 
emphasis  than  the  occasion  required. 

"That  being  the  case,  I  am  ready,"  said  she,  sitting  by  her 
sister,  thereby  being  diagonally  opposite  to  Mr.  Gunther. 

From  that  time  the  five  travelers  were  constantly  together, 
and  the  days  passed  delightfully  for  all  during  the  entire  jour 
ney,  especially  so  to  Gunther  and  Selden.  They  had  no 
occasion  to  complain  of  Mercedes  for  staying  awa}%.  She 
most  amiably  took  part  in  all  their  games  and  other  amuse 
ments,  their  walks  while  waiting  at  stations,  their  conversa 
tions  during  the  sentimental  and  delightful  twilight  hours. 
She  had  found  that  both  young  gentlemen  were  a  most  excel 
lent  protection  against  one  another,  as  neither  one  was  ever 
willing  to  go  leaving  her  alone  with  the  other.  As  for  ardent 
loving  looks,  she  knew  that  the  best  way  of  eluding  them  was 
by  having  recourse  to  her  little  trick  of  dropping  her  gaze,  as 
if  she  must  look  down  for  something  missing  near  by.  That 
little  trick  came  to  her  from  sheer  timidity  and  bashfulness 
long  ago.  In  fact,  she  was  unconscious  of  it,  until  Corina 
Holman  had  told  her  that  whenever  Clarence  Darrell  was 
present  she  became  sly,  and  did  not  dare  to  look  at  people 
squarely  in  the  face — that  she  was  the  veriest  hypocrite. 
Thus  she  learned  that  her  bashful  timidity  had  been  entirely 
misunderstood,  but  she  was  also  made  aware  that  she  had 
accidentally  discovered  how  to  avoid  looks  which  were  best 
not  to  meet — best  to  avoid  by  simply  dropping  her  gaze.  As 
her  long,  curly  lashes  veiled  her  eyes  with  a  silken  fringe,  they 
could  hide  under  that  cover  like  two  little  cherubs  crouching 
under  their  own  wings. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

SPANISH  LAND  GRANTS  VIEWED  RETROSPECTIVELY. 

San  Francisco  seemed  deserted,  dusty  and  desolate  to  Clar 
ence  after  his  return  from  the  Yosemite  and  the  society  of 
Mercedes.  It  was  the  step  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous; 
so  he  ran  off  to  his  Alameda  farm  and  remained  there  until 
the  day  before  the  steamer  would  leave  for  San  Diego.  He 
then  came  back  late  to  the  dusty  city  and  went  in  search  of 
Hubert  to  take  him  to  dinner. 

"Come  for  pity's  sake  to  dine  with  me  and  talk  to  me.  I 
can't  eat  alone,  I  am  too  blue,"  said  he,  going  to  Hubert's 
desk. 

"All  right,  my  boy.  You  are  the  very  man  I  wanted  to  see, 
for  I  have  been  slashing  into  your  stocks  like  all  possessed;" 
and  he  made  cuts  and  thrusts  in  the  air  illustrative  of  a  terri 
ble  havoc. 

"What  have  you  done?"  Clarence  asked,  laughing. 

"Well,  in  the  first  place,  I  have  sold  all  your  Yellow  Jacket, 
all  your  Savage  and  half  of  your  Ophir,  and  I  bought  you  some 
Consolidated  Virginia  and  California.  What  do  you  say  to 
that?" 

"  Not  one  word,  for  I  suppose  you  know  what  you  are 
about." 

"I  think  I  do,  and,  as  a  proof  of  it,  I  made  for  you  twenty 
thousand  dollars  clear  profit  by  the  operation,  besides  buying 
your  Consolidated  Virginia.  So  if  that  last  venture  is  a  fail 
ure,  I  shall  not  feel  I  have  swamped  all  your  cash." 

"  I  should  say  not.  You  are  the  prince  of  brokers,  Berty. 
You  have  not  made  a  single  mistake  in  managing  my  stock." 

"Yes  I  have.     I  sold  your  Crown  Point  too  soon." 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  155 

"But  that  was  my  mistake,  not  yours." 

"Yes  it  was.  I  ought  to  have  sold  half  to  fool  you,  and 
kept  the  other  half  ten  days  longer  to  make  a  million  with  it. 
I  was  stupidly  honest  that  time." 

"I  forgive  you." 

"  But  I  don't  forgive  myself,  nor  you  either." 

"I  know  that.  You  are  only  piling  coals  of  fire  on  my  head. 
Now  I  have  to  bear  twenty  thousand  more  fresh  coals,  and  I 
forbearingly  say:  'Pile  on  Macduff,'  et  cetera.  Where  shall  we 
go  to  dinner — the  Poodle  Dog  cr  California?" 

"Let  us  go  to  the  California  House.     John  keeps  the  best." 

To  the  California  House  they  went,  and  had  a  most  excel 
lent  dinner  with  Chateau  Yquem  and  a  bottle  of  Roderer. 

"Don't  you  know  I  like  some  of  our  California  wines  quite 
as  well  as  the  imported,  if  not  better?  I  suppose  I  ought  to 
be  ashamed  to  admit  it,  thus  showing  that  my  taste  is  not  cul 
tivated.  But  that  is  the  simple  truth.  There  is  that  flavor  of 
the  real  genuine  grape  which  our  California  wines  have  that  is 
different  from  the  imported.  I  think  sooner  or  later  our  wines 
will  be  better  liked,  better  appreciated,"  Clarence  said. 

"  I  think  so  too,  but  for  the  present  it  is  the  fashion  to  cry 
down  our  native  wines  and  extol  the  imported.  When  for 
eigners  come  to  California  to  tell  us  that  we  can  make  good 
wines,  that  we  have  soils  in  which  to  grow  the  best  grapes, 
then  we  will  believe  it,  not  before." 

The  two  friends  went  after  dinner  to  Clarence's  rooms,  where 
they  spent  the  evening  together.  Twelve  o'clock  found  them 
still  busy  talking  of  a  thousand  things.  Next  morning  Hubert 
came  to  breakfast  with  Clarence  and  accompanied  him  to  the 
steamer. 

"Good-by,  old  fellow;  take  care  of  yourself.'' 

"Good-by,  my  boy;  good  luck  to  you,"  said  they,  with  a 
lingering  grip  of  the  hands. 

"I  hope  Fred  has  had  a  safe  journey,"  Clarence  added. 

"I  think  so,  and  I  hope  soon  to  get  his  telegram — about  his 
' first  impression' — which  I  shall  transmit  to  you." 


156  THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

Once  more  'Clarence  was  crossing  San  Francisco  Bay — on 
to  the  Golden  Gate,  on  to  the  broad  Pacific. 

The  surrounding  scenery  recalled  Mercedes'  image  so  vivid 
ly  to  his  mind  that  it  made  his  heart  long  to  see  her,  and  the 
entire  voyage  was  painful  to  him  with  the  keen  regret  of  her 
absence. 

But  now,  again,  on  the  fourth  morning — a  lovely  one  in  the 
sunlit  July — he  was  once  more  making  his  way  between  Bal 
last  Point  and  the  sandy  peninsula,  facing  La  Playa  and  then 
turning  to  the  right  towards  San  Diego  City. 

San  Diego  at  that  time — in  July,  1873 — be  it  remembered, 
was  fresh  and  rosy  with  bright  hopes,  like  a  healthy  child  just 
trying  to  stand  up,  with  no  sickness  or  ill-usage  to  sap  its  vital 
ity  and  weaken  its  limbs.  Only  ten  months  before  Col.  Scott 
had  come  to  say  that  the  Texas  Pacific  Railroad  would  be  built 
through  the  shortest,  most  practicable  route,  making  San  Diego 
the  western  terminus  of  the  shortest  trans-continental  railway. 
It  was  true  that  on  the  following  winter  Congress  had  done 
nothing  further  to  help  the  Texas  Pacific.  But  many  reasons 
were  given  for  this  singular  lack  of  interest  in  so  important  a 
matter  on  the  part  of  Congress.  Among  the  many  reasons, 
the  true  one  was  not  mentioned,  hardly  suspected;  it  would 
have  seemed  too  monstrous  to  have  been  believed  all  at  once; 
incredible  if  revealed  without  preparing  the  mind  for  its  recep 
tion.  Yes,  the  mind  had  to  be  prepared — slowly  educated 
first.  Now  it  has  been.  The  process  began  about  that  time 
and  it  has  continued  up  to  this  day,  this  very  moment  in  which 
I  write  this  page.  Mr.  Huntington's  letters  have  taught  us 
how  San  Diego  was  robbed,  tricked,  and  cheated  out  of  its  in 
heritance.  We  will  look  at  these  letters  further  on. 

When  the  steamer  arrived  near  enough  to  the  wharf  for  per 
sons  to  be  recognized,  Clarence's  heart  leaped  with  pleasure, 
for  he  saw  the  well  known,  tall  form  of  Don  Mariano  sitting  in 
his  buggy  leaning  back,  looking  at  the  approaching  steamer. 
A  minute  after,  he  saw  Victoriano  and  Everett  standing  to 
gether  near  the  edge  of  the  wharf  ready  to  receive  him. 


THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  157 

"  Well,  Mr.  Runaway,  welcome  back !"  Victoriano  said,  clasp 
ing  Clarence's  hand  as  soon  as  he  was  upon  the  wharf.  He 
gave  the  other  hand  to  Everett,  who  said : 

"  We  will  have  to  lazo  you  to  keep  you  home." 

"  I  think  we  will  have  to  put  a  yoke  on  him,"  added  Victo 
riano. 

"  Exactly;  only  let  me  select  my  yokefellow,"  Clarence  said, 
laughing. 

As  Don  Mariano  intended  returning  home  that  day,  Clarence 
proposed  that  Victoriano  should  drive  with  Everett,  and  he  go 
with  Don  Mariano,  an  arrangement  which  was  very  satisfactory 
to  all  parties.  He  was  very  anxious  to  unburden  his  mind, 
and  Don  Mariano's  inquiries  about  his  daughters  and  their 
voyage  to  San  Francisco  soon  gave  him  the  desired  opportunity. 
He  told  Don  Mariano  what  George  had  said,  and  how  firmly 
and  sincerely  Mercedes  wished  to  abide  by  her  mother's  wishes. 
Don  Mariano  listened  very  attentively,  then  said: 

"  I  had  intended  suggesting  to  you  the  same  thing.  Gabriel 
has  spoken  to  me  about  the  matter  several  times,  insisting  that 
all  the  ladies  of  our  family  ought  to  know  that  you  paid  for 
your  land.  Since  we  cannot  divest  them  of  the  resentment 
they  have  towards  squatters,  let  them  know  the  truth.  Let 
them  see  that  Congress,  if  it  does  not  always  follow  moral  prin 
ciples,  can  certainly  subvert  them  most  arbitrarily  and  disas 
trously.  Do  you  still  wish  to  keep  the  matter  from  your 
father?" 

Clarence  thought  for  a  moment,  then  answered : 

"Yes,  but  only  for  a  short  time.  I  suppose  we  will  have  to 
define  our  position  as  soon  as  the  appeal  is  dismissed.  Before 
that  comes,  I  shall  explain  all  to  him." 

They  rode  on  in  silence  for  a  few  moments;  then  Don  Mari 
ano  said: 

"Very  well,  I  shall  tell  rny  wife  that,  for  the  present,  the 
matter  must  not  be  mentioned  outside  the  family  or  in  the 
hearing  of  servants." 

"I  thank  you,"  Clarence  said;  "it  is  very  painful  to  me  to 


158  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

find  my  father  adhering  so  tenaciously  to  his  old  conviction 
that  all  Mexican  grants  not  finally  confirmed  to  their  owners 
are  public  land,  and  being  so,  they  are  open  for  settlement  to 
all  American  citizens.  Thus,  he  still  insists  that,  being  an 
American  citizen,  he  has  the  right  to  locate  on  your  land  or 
any  other  unconfirmed  grant.  This  idea  has  been  the  bane  of 
his  life  for  many  years,  but  for  the  very  reason  that  in  maintain 
ing  it  he  has  caused  so  much  trouble  to  himself  and  to  others, 
he  seems  to  cling  to  it  most  pertinaciously.  He  believes  your 
land  was  rejected,  and  that  the  rejection  will  be  sustained." 

"Yes,  my  land  was  reported  rejected,  but  it  was  by  some 
mistake  of  the  clerks,  because  at  that  time  the  title  had  not 
been  either  finally  rejected  or  confirmed.  It  had  been  before 
the  Land  Commission,  and  that  (of  course)  decided  adversely, 
as  it  generally  did.  Then  I  appealed  to  the  United  States 
District  Court.  This  said  that  there  was  not  sufficient  testi 
mony  to  confirm  my  title,  but  did  not  affirm  the  opinion  of  the 
Land  Commission,  nor  reverse  their  decision,  nor  enter  a  de 
cree  of  rejection.  It  simply  left  the  case  in  that  uncertain  con 
dition  until  1870,  when  I  discharged  my  lawyer  and  engaged 
another  to  attend  to  the  suit.  Then  the  case  was  reopened, 
and  a  decree  of  confirmation  was  entered.  In  the  meantime, 
squatters  had  been  coming,  and  they  now  have  carried  their 
appeal  to  Washington,  to  the  United  States  Supreme  Court, 
against  me." 

"  I  see  it  all  now,"  Clarence  said,  thoughtfully. 

"And  don't  you  know,"  Don  Mariano  continued,  "that  I 
don't  find  it  in  my  heart  to  blame  those  people  for  taking  my 
land  as  much  as  I  blame  the  legislators  who  turned  them  loose 
upon  me  ?  And  least  of  all  I  blame  your  father,  for  he  has  not 
killed  my  cattle,  as  the  others  have." 

"Of  course,  he  couldn't,  he  wouldn't,  he  shouldn't  do  that. 
That  would  be  worse  than  the  lowest  theft." 

"That  is  true,  but  there  is  a  law  to  protect  him  if  he  did;  in 
fact,  to  authorize  him  to  do  so.  Thus,  you  see,  here  again 
come  our  legislators  to  encourage  again  wrong-doing — to  offer 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  159 

a  premium  to  one  class  of  citizens  to  go  and  prey  upon  another 
class.  All  this  is  wrong.  I  hold  that  the  legislators  of  a  nation 
are  the  guardians  of  public  morality,  the  teachers  of  what  is 
right  and  just.  They  should  never  enact  laws  that  are  not 
founded  upon  rectitude,  as  Herbert  Spencer  says,  no  matter  if 
expedience  or  adventitious  circumstances  might  seem  to  de 
mand  it.  But  I  need  not  tell  you  this,  for  you  hold  the  same 
opinion." 

"  Indeed  I  do,  and  understanding  your  rights  better  than  I 
did,  I  think  you  were  too  generous  in  making  the  offer  you 
made  to  the  settlers  at  the  meeting  with  them  last  year." 

"  It  was  rather  generous,  but  not  as  much  so  as  you  perhaps 
think.  I  was  looking  out  for  myself,  too." 

"  I  heard  them  talk  about  an  appeal  that  was  pending,  and 
I  thought  it  was  your  appeal,  not  theirs." 

"  The  position  then  was  this :  In  the  first  place,  I  was  willing 
to  give  them  a  chance  of  getting  good  homes  for  their  families, 
for  I  shall  always  consider  that  the  law  has  deluded  and  misled 
them,  and  helped  them  to  develop  their  natural  inclination  to 
appropriate  what  belonged  to  some  one  else;  so  they  should 
bear  only  half  the  blame  for  being  squatters — Congress  must 
bear  the  other  half.  Then,  in  the  second  place,  about  the  time 
I  had  that  meeting,  I  had  just  received  a  letter  from  George, 
written  at  Washington,  telling  me  how  the  Solicitor  General 
had  disobeyed  the  order  of  the  Attorney  General,  instructing 
him  to  dismiss  the  appeal  against  the  confirmation  of  my  title. 
As  I  did  not  know  that  the  Solicitor  General  was  acting  thus 
out  of  pique  or  personal  animosity  against  the  Attorney  Gen 
eral,  I  naturally  feared  that  he  was  going  to  make  me  suffer 
other  worse  outrages,  judging  by  his  arbitrary,  irresponsible 
conduct.  I  thought  that  there  might  be  many  more  years  of 
delay  while  waiting  for  the  dismissal  of  the  appeal,  and  while 
thus  waiting  all  my  cattle  would  be  killed.  Reasoning  thus,  I 
concluded  that  it  would  be  less  ruinous  to  me  to  make  the  con 
cessions  I  offered  than  to  wait  for  tardy  justice  to  restore  my 
land  to  me — restore  it  when  all  my  cattle  shall  have  been  de 
stroyed." 


l6o  THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"I  think  your  reasoning  was  correct — it  did  seem  as  if  the 
Solicitor  meant  mischief.  It  was  fortunate  that  he  dropped 
the  matter." 

"Yes,  for  which  I  am  devoutly  thankful.  I  hope  the  mis 
chief  he  has  done  may  soon  be  corrected  by  the  Attorney 
General.  Of  course,  the  additional  eighteen  months  of  depre 
dations  on  my  cattle  which  I  have  had  to  endure,  must  go 
unredressed  together  with  all  else  I  have  had  to  suffer  at  the 
hands  of  those  vandals." 

"At  the  hands  of  our  law-givers." 

"Exactly.  I  shall  always  lay  it  at  the  door  of  our  legisla 
tors — that  they  have  not  only  caused  me  to  suffer  many  out 
rages,  but,  with  those  same  laws,  they  are  sapping  the  very  life 
essence  of  public  morality.  They  are  teaching  the  people  to 
lose  all  respect  for  the  rights  of  others — to  lose  all  respect  for 
their  national  honor.  Because  we,  the  natives  of  California, 
the  Spano-Americans,  were,  at  the  close  of  the  war  with  Mexi 
co,  left  in  the  lap  of  the  American  nation,  or,  rather,  huddled 
at  her  feet  like  motherless,  helpless  children,  Congress  thought 
we  might  as  well  be  kicked  and  cuffed  as  treated  kindly. 
There  was  no  one  to  be  our  champion,  no  one  to  take  our  part 
and  object  to  our  being  robbed.  It  ought  to  have  been  suffi 
cient  that  by  the  treaty  of  Guadalupe  Hidalgo  the  national 
faith,  the  nation's  honor  was  pledged  to  respect  our  property. 
They  never  thought  of  that.  With  very  unbecoming  haste, 
Congress  hurried  to  pass  laws  to  legalize  their  despoliation  of 
the  conquered  Californians,  forgetting  the  nation's  pledge  to 
protect  us.  Of  course,  for  opening  our  land  to  squatters  and 
then  establishing  a  land  commission  to  sanction  and  corrobo 
rate  that  outrage,  our  California  delegation  then  in  Washing 
ton,  must  bear  the  bulk  of  the  blame.  They  should  have 
opposed  the  passage  of  such  laws  instead  of  favoring  their 
enactment." 

"Why  did  they  favor  such  legislation?" 

"  Because  California  was  expected  to  be  filled  with  a  popu 
lation  of  farmers,  of  industrious  settlers  who  would  have  votes 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  l6l 

and  would  want  their  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  each  of  the 
best  land  to  be  had.  As  our  legislators  thought  that  we,  the 
Spano- American  natives,  had  the  best  lands,  and  but  few  votes, 
there  was  nothing  else  to  be  done  but  to  despoil  us,  to  take 
our  lands  and  give  them  to  the  coming  population." 

"But  that  was  outrageous.  Their  motive  was  a  political 
object." 

"Certainly.  The  motive  was  that  our  politicians  wanted 
votes.  The  squatters  were  in  increasing  majority;  the  Spanish 
natives,  in  diminishing  minority.  Then  the  cry  was  raised  that 
our  land  grants  were  too  large ;  that  a  few  lazy,  thriftless,  ignor 
ant  natives,  holding  such  large  tracts  of  land,  would  be  a  hin 
drance  to  the  prosperity  of  the  State,  because  such  lazy  people 
would  never  cultivate  their  lands,  and  were  even  too  sluggish 
to  sell  them.  The  cry  was  taken  up  and  became  popular.  It 
was  so  easy  to  upbraid,  to  deride,  to  despise  the  conquered 
race !  Then  to  despoil  them,  to  make  them  beggars,  seemed 
to  be,  if  not  absolutely  righteous,  certainly  highly  justifiable. 
Any  one  not  acquainted  with  the  real  facts  might  have  supposed 
that  there  was  no  more  land  to  be  had  in  California  but  that  which 
belonged  to  the  natives.  Everybody  seemed  to  have  forgotten 
that  for  each  acre  that  was  owned  by  them,  there  were  thous 
ands  vacant,  belonging  to  the  Government,  and  which  any  one 
can  have  at  one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents  per  acre.  No, 
they  didn't  want  Government  land.  The  settlers  want  the  lands 
of  the  lazy,  the  thriftless  Spaniards.  Such  good-for-nothing, 
helpless  wretches  are  not  fit  to  own  such  lordly  tracts  of  land. 
It  was  wicked  to  tolerate  the  waste,  the  extravagance  of  the 
Mexican  Government,  in  giving  such  large  tracts  of  land  to  a 
few  individuals.  The  American  Government  never  could  have 
been,  or  ever  could  be,  guilty  of  such  thing.  No,  never !  But, 
behold!  Hardly  a  dozen  years  had  passed,  when  this  same 
economical,  far-seeing  Congress,  which  was  so  ready  to  snatch 
away  from  the  Spanish  people  their  lands  (which  rightfully 
belonged  to  them)  on  the  plea  that  such  large  tracts  of  land 
ought  not  to  belong  to  a  few  individuals,  this  same  Congress. 


1 62  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

mind  you,  goes  to  work  and  gives  to  railroad  companies  mil 
lions  upon  millions  of  acres  of  land.  It  is  true  that  such  gifts 
were  for  the  purpose  of  aiding  enterprises  for  the  good  of  the 
people.  Yes,  but  that  was  exactly  the  same  motive  which 
guided  the  Spanish  and  the  Mexican  governments — to  give 
large  tracts  of  land  as  an  inducement  to  those  citizens  who 
would  utilize  the  wilderness  of  the  government  domain — utilize 
it  by  starting  ranches  which  afterwards  would  originate  "pueb 
los"  or  villages,  and  so  on.  The  fact  that  these  land-owners 
who  established  large  ranchos  were  very  efficient  and  faithful 
colaborators  in  the  foundation  of  missions,  was  also  taken  into 
consideration  by  the  Spanish  Government  or  the  viceroys  of 
Mexico.  The  land-owners  were  useful  in  many  ways,  though 
to  a  limited  extent  they  attracted  population  by  employing 
white  labor.  They  also  employed  Indians,  who  thus  began  to 
be  less  wild.  Then  in  times  of  Indian  outbreaks,  the  land 
owners  with  their  servants  would  turn  out  as  in  feudal  times  in 
Europe,  to  assist  in  the  defense  of  the  missions  and  the  sparse 
ly  settled  country  threatened  by  the  savages.  Thus,  you  see} 
that  it  was  not  a  foolish  extravagance,  but  a  judicious  policy 
which  induced  the  viceroys  and  Spanish  governors  to  begin 
the  system  of  giving  large  land  grants." 

"I  never  knew  that  this  was  the  object  of  the  Spanish  and 
Mexican  governments  in  granting  large  tracts  of  land,  but  it 
seems  to  me  a  very  wise  plan  when  there  was  so  much  land 
and  so  few  settlers." 

"Precisely.  It  was  a  good  policy.  In  fact,  the  only  one  in 
those  days  of  a  patriarchal  sort  of  life,  when  raising  cattle  was 
the  principal  occupation  of  the  Californians." 

"I  must  say  that  to  establish  the  Land  Commission  seems 
to  me  rather  a  small  subterfuge  for  the  Congress  of  a  great 
nation  to  resort  to." 

"What  makes  this  subterfuge  a  cold-blooded  wrong,  of  pre 
meditated  gravity,  is  the  fact  that  at  the  time  when  we  were  forced 
to  submit  our  titles  for  revision,  and  pending  these  legal  proceed 
ings,  we,  the  land-owners,  began  to  pay  taxes,  and  the  squatters 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  163 

were  told  that  they  have  the  right  to  take  our  lands  and  keep  them 
until  we  should  prove  that  we  had  good  titles  to  them.  If  the 
law  had  obliged  us  to  submit-  our  titles  to  the  inspection  of  the 
Land  Commission,  but  had  not  opened  our  ranches  to  settlers 
until  it  had  been  proved  thvt  our  titles  were  not  good,  and  if,  too, 
taxes  were  paid  by  those  who  derived  the  benefit  from  the  land, 
then  there  would  be  some  color  of  equity  in  such  laws.  But 
is  not  this  a  subversion  of  all  fundamental  principles  of  justice? 
Here  we  are,  living  where  we  have  lived  for  fifty  or  eighty 
years;  the  squatters  are  turned  loose  upon  us  to  take  our  lands, 
and  we  must  pay  taxes  for  them,  and  we  must  go  to  work  to 
prove  that  our  lands  are  ours  before  the  squatter  goes.  Why 
doesn't  the  squatter  prove  first  that  the  land  is  his,  and  why 
doesn't  he  pay  his  own  taxes  ?  We,  as  plaintiffs,  have  to  bear 
heavy  expenses,  and  as  the  delays  and  evasions  of  the  law  are 
endless,  the  squatter  has  generally  managed  to  keep  the  land 
he  took,  for  we  have  been  impoverished  by  heavy  taxation 
while  trying  to  prove  our  rights,  and  the  squatter  has  been 
making  money  out  of  our  lands  to  fight  us  with.  Gener 
ally  the  Californians  have  had  nothing  but  land  to  pay  their 
taxes,  besides  paying  their  lawyers  to  defend  their  titles.  Thus, 
often  the  lawyer  has  taken  all  that  was  left  out  of  the  cost  of 
litigation  and  taxes. 

"  It  makes  me  heart-sick  to  think  how  unjustly  the  native 
Californians  have  been  treated.  I  assure  you,  sir,  that  not  one 
American  in  a  million  knows  of  this  outrage.  If  they  did,  they 
would  denounce  it  in  the  bitterest  language;  they  would  not 
tolerate  it." 

"  They  would  denounce  it  perhaps,  but  they  would  tolerate 
it.  I  used  to  think  as  you  do,  that  the  American  people 
had  a  very  direct  influence  upon  the  legislation  of  the  country. 
It  seems  so  to  hear  public  speakers  in  election  times,  but  half 
of  all  their  fire  goes  up  in  smoke,  and  Congress  is  left  coolly  to 
do  as  it  pleases.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  that  this  very  arbitrary 
Congress,  so  impervious  to  appeals  of  sufferers,  is  also  led  by  a 
few  persistent  men  who  with  determination  do  all  things,  spoil 


164  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

or  kill  good  bills,  and  doctor  up  sick  ones;  and  then  they  half- 
fool  and  half-weary  the  nation  into  acquiescence,  for  what  can 
we  do  ?  The  next  batch  that  is  sent  to  the  Capitol  will  have 
the  same  elements  in  it,  and  repeat  history." 

"It  seems  to  me  there  ought  to  be  some  way  to  punish  men 
for  being  bad  or  ineffectual  legislators,  when  sense  of  honor  or 
dread  of  criticism  fail  to  make  them  do  their  duty." 

Don  Mariano  sighed  and  shook  his  head,  then  in  a  very  sad 
voice  said: 

"  That  should  be  so,  but  it  is  not  the  case.  No,  I  don't  see 
any  remedy  in  my  life-time.  I  am  afraid  there  is  no  help  for 
us  native  Californians.  We  must  sadly  fade  and  pass  away. 
The  weak  and  the  helpless  are  always  trampled  in  the  throng. 
We  must  sink,  go  under,  never  to  rise.  If  the  Americans  had 
been  friendly  to  us,  and  helped  us  with  good,  protective  laws, 
our  fate  would  have  been  different.  But  to  legislate  us  into 
poverty  is  to  legislate  us  into  our  graves.  Their  very  contact 
is  deadly  to  us." 

"And  yet  you  do  not  seem  to  hate  us." 

"Hate  you?  No,  indeed!  Never!  The  majority  of  my 
best  friends  are  Americans.  Instead  of  hate,  I  feel  great  at 
traction  toward  the  American  people.  Their  sentiments,  their 
ways  of  thinking  suit  me,  with  but  few  exceptions.  I  am  fond 
of  the  Americans.  I  know  that,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  only  the 
very  mean  and  narrow-minded  have  harsh  feelings  against  my 
race.  The  trouble,  the  misfortune  has  been  that  the  American 
people  felt  perfect  indifference  towards  the  conquered  few. 
We  were  not  in  sufficient  numbers  to  command  attention. 
We  were  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  Congress,  and  the  Amer 
ican  nation  never  gave  us  a  thought  after  the  treaty  of  peace 
with  Mexico  was  signed.  Probably  any  other  nation  would 
have  done  the  same.  Why  should  I  then  hate  them?  No, 
indeed.  But  I  confess  my  heart  collapses  when  I  think  what 
might  be  the  fate  of  my  family  if  I  am  not  able  to  avert  the  ruin 
which  has  overtaken  the  majority  of  Californians.  We  have 
not  been  millionaires,  but  we  have  never  known  want.  We  are 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  165 

all  ill  prepared  for  poverty;  and  yet  this  long-delayed  justice, 
and  the  squatters  crowding  me  so  relentlessly — "  he  stopped 
short,  then  added:  '''I  am  not  giving  you  a  cheerful  welcome 
with  my  gloomy  conversation." 

"But  I  want  you  to  talk  to  me  frankly  and  give  me  your  views. 
You  have  told  me  much  that  I  had  never  heard  before,  and 
which  I  am  glad  to  learn.  But  as  for  feeling  gloomy  about  the 
future  of  the  family,  I  think  a  plan  that  Mr.  George  Mechlin 
and  myself  have  been  forming  will  make  things  rather  better 
for  the  future,  and  we  trust  you  will  approve  it." 

"What  is  the  plan?" 


CHAPTER  XVII. 
DONA  JOSEFA  AT  HOME. 

Don  Mariano  had  only  said,  "What  is  the  plan?"  a  very  nat 
ural  and  simple  inquiry,  and  yet  it  threw  Clarence  into  some 
thing  of  a  flutter,  as  it  flashed  vividly  before  his  mind  that  the 
said  plan  was  based  entirely  upon  the  fate  of  the  Texas  Pa 
cific  Railroad,  and  that  as  a  natural  sequence  it  depended 
upon  the  wisdom,  the  moral  sense  and  patriotism  of  Congress. 
If  Congress  acted  right  and  did  its  duty  as  the  mentor,  guar 
dian  and  trustee  of  the  people,  all  would  be  well.  But  would 
it  ?  Would  it,  indeed  ?  The  past  promised"  nothing  to  the 
future,  judging  by  the  light  of  Don  Mariano's  experience.  But 
why  should  the  Texas  Pacific  not  be  granted  aid?  The  public 
treasure  had  been  lavished  to  help  the  Central  Pacific,  a  north 
ern  road — why  should  the  southern  people  not  be  entitled  to 
the  same  privilege?  These  thoughts  flashed  through  Clar 
ence's  mind  before  he  answered,  then  he  said,  somewhat 
timidly: 

"The  plan  is  to  establish  a  bank  in  San  Diego,  with  Mr. 
George  Mechlin  for  President,  and  Don  Gabriel  for  Cashier. 
The  only  drawback  is,  of  course,  the  delay  there  might  be  in 
constructing  the  Texas  Pacific  Railroad — the  delay  in  the  growth 
of  San  Diego.  As  yet,  however,  we  are  hopeful,  and  the  pros 
pect  seems  good." 

"  The  prospect  is  perfectly  good,  and  I  would  have  entire 
confidence  in  it,  if  the  fate  of  the  railroad  did  not  depend  upon 
right  and  just  legislation.  The  Congressmen  from  the  north 
do  not  seem  to  feel  all  the  interest  they  should  in  reviving  the 
south.  They  are  angry  yet.  The  fact  that  they  coerced  back 
into  the  Union  the  southern  people  has  not  appeased  them 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  i&7 

yet,  it  seems.  I  wish  Tom  Scott  would  build  his  road  with 
out  Congressional  aid.  The  success  of  your  banking  pro 
ject  must,  of  course,  depend  upon  the  amount  of  population 
in  San  Diego." 

"Undoubtedly.  And  if  there  is  no  railroad,  there  will  be 
no  population.  But  Mr.  Mechlin  and  myself  are  ready  with 
our  money,  and  with  the  least  encouraging  sign  we  start  our 
bank.  I  think  we  will  begin  at  first  with  two  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars.  Mr.  Mechlin  says  he  can  subscribe  twenty-five 
or  thirty  thousand  dollars,  and  I  will  put  the  balance  in,  sub 
scribing  thirty  thousand  for  Don  Gabriel,  twenty-five  thousand 
for  Victoriano  and  twenty-five  thousand  for  Everett,  with  ninety 
thousand  for  myself." 

"You  must  be  prudent  in  incurring  risks." 

"I  am.  I  have  more  than  two  hundred  thousand  that  I  can 
put  in  this  bank  without  troubling  my  government  bonds  or  my 
farm." 

Clarence  then  explained  to  Don  Mariano  his  financial  af 
fairs. 

Don  Mariano  smiled  as  he  said :  "I  had  no  idea  you  were 
so  well  off." 

"  I  expect  to  make  a  fortune  out  of  my  Arizona  mines,"  said 
he,  laughing. 

"Take  care.  Do  not  put  any  of  your  government  bonds  in 
them." 

"Indeed,  I  shall  not.  The  interest  on  those  bonds  gives  me 
nearly  thirty-five  thousand  dollars  per  year,  and  this  income  is 
for — "  here  Clarence  blushed  and  was  silent. 

"To  take  care  of  your  wife,"  Don  Mariano  said. 

"Yes,  sir;  for  that  alone.  But  do  you  think  Dona  Josefa 
will  object  to  me  after  you  explain  my  position?" 

"As  her  only  objection  is  that  she  thinks  you  are  squatters, 
she  would  be  very  unreasonable  should  she  hold  the  same  ob 
jections  after  she  knows  that  you  are  not." 

"You  make  me  very  happy  telling  me  that.  I  hope  you  will 
let  me  know  soon  what  answer  she  gives  to  you." 


1 68  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Certainly.     You  can  come  to-morrow." 

"I  have  some  little  packages  that  Mrs.  Mechlin  sends.  I 
can  bring  them  this  evening — the  ladies  might  wish  to  see  the 
contents." 

"  Of  course,  they  will.  They  wouldn't  be  women  if  they 
didn't.  They'll  want  you  to  relate  all  the  incidents  of  the  voy 
age,  too,  and  the  trip  to  the  Yosemite.  If  you  can,  come 
this  evening.  I'll  tell  them  you  are  coming." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

Everett  and  Victoriano  overtook  them  now  as  they  entered 
the  valley. 

"Say,  Clary,"  Everett  called  out,  "don't  you  want  to  get  out 
here  and  change  seats  with  Tano?" 

"I'll  take  him  home,"  Don  Mariano  answered;  and  they  all 
drove  toward  the  Darrell  house. 

At  the  door  were  Mr.  Darrell  and  Alice.  Immediately  after, 
Darrell  came  out  to  greet  his  son.  He  was  rather  cordial  to 
Don  Mariano,  and  asked  him  to  come  in  and  take  lunch.  This 
was  so  very  unexpected  to  all  his  hearers,  that,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  Don  Mariano,  all  showed  their  surprise.  This  kind 
invitation,  however,  was  politely  declined — whereupon  Victo 
riano,  pretending  to  feel  slighted  because  he  was  not  invited, 
tossed  his  head  at  Clarence  and  Everett,  and  marched  majes 
tically  towards  his  father's  carriage. 

Everett  overtook  him,  and  would  not  let  him  get  in,  insist 
ing  upon  his  remaining  to  luncheon.  Victoriano  then  indicat 
ing  that  he  was  entirely  pacified,  remained,  perfectly  happy, 
knowing  his  seat  would  be  near  Alice,  and  that  was  the  allure 
ment,  but  he  said  to  Tisha,-  as  she  came  to  set  a  plate  for 
him : 

"Your cooking  is  so  good,  Tisha,  that  I  always  come  sneak 
ing  around,  begging  for  an  invitation,  for  I  am  sure  you  have 
something  nice  to  give  us." 

"La  massa!  and  right  welcome  ye  are,  too,  by  everybody  in 
this  'ere  family,  and  I  knows  it  exactly." 

And  Tisha  winked  to  herself  in  the  pantry,  indicating  to 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE    DON.  169 

the  crockery  on  the  shelves  that  she  knew  why  Massa  Tano 
liked  her  cooking,  "and  Miss  Alice  knows  it,  God  bless  her," 
said  Tisha,  nodding  her  head  to  the  rows  of  preserves  and 
pickle  jars,  in  sheer  exultation,  for  there  was  nothing  so  inter 
esting  to  Tisha  on  the  face  of  the  earth  as  a  love  affair. 

"All  the  world  love  the  lover"  says  Emerson,  and  Tisha 
could  certify  to  this  aphoristic  truth,  for  who  more  humble 
than  Tisha?  And  yet  her  heart  went  headlong  to  the  lover, 
whoever  he  might  be.  Therefore,  a  love  affair  in  the  Darrell 
family  was  to  Tisha  perfectly  entrancing.  She  had  been  in  a 
state  of  undefined  bliss  ever  since  her  perceptive  organs  and 
other  means  of  information  had  indicated  to  her  that  Clarence 
was  in  love!  She  had  taken  upon  herself  to  watch  and  see  that 
the  affair  progressed  and  ended  happily. 

In  the  evening  Clarence  proceeded  to  deliver  the  packages 
sent  by  Elvira  to  her  mother  and  sisters. 

With  beating  heart  he  timidly  ascended  the  steps  of  the 
front  veranda  of  the  Alamar  house,  for  he  did  not  feel  en 
tirely  certain  that  Dona  Josefa's  objections  would  be  with 
drawn.  He  was  not  kept  in  suspense  about  the  matter, 
however,  as  now,  preceded  by  woolly  Milord,  the  hand 
some  matron  herself  came  forward  to  meet  him,  extend 
ing  her  hand  in  welcome  most  gracious.  She  never  had 
seemed  to  him  so  handsome,  so  regally  beautiful.  He  thought 
that  he  had  been  right  in  imagining  Juno  must  have  looked 
like  her.  And  when  she  smiled,  as  she  extended  her  hand  to 
him,  he  thought  that  such  was  surely  the  smile,  the  manner 
and  the  beauty  of  a  goddess. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  welcome  you,  Mr.  Darrell,"  said  she,  "and 
knowing  that  you  wish  to  speak  to  me,  and  as  I,  too,  wish  to 
speak  with  you  alone,  I  thought  I  would  meet  you  here  by 
myself." 

Milord  barked,  wagged  his  tail  in  token  of  friendship,  and 
sat  up  to  listen. 

"You  are  very  kind,"  Clarence  said,  placing  the  packages 
on  a  table  near  him,  not  knowing,  however,  what  else  to  say. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Sit  down,"  Dona  Josefasaid,  pushing  one  of  the  large  arm 
chairs  for  Clarence  to  sit  near.  "And  let  me  begin  our  con 
versation  by  apologizing  for  the  very  wrong,  very  unjust  opinion 
I  have  had  of  you.  Believe  me,  it  gives  me  great  pleasure  to 
know  I  was  mistaken." 

Her  voice,  her  manner,  were  more  gracious  than  her  words, 
and  Clarence  thought  that  it  was  not  to  be  wondered  that  the 
daughters  were  so  very  charming. 

"I  am  the  one  who  should  apologize,"  he  hastened  to  reply; 
"I  ought  to  have  asked  Don  Mariano  to  explain  my  position 
to  you  before." 

"I  wish  you  had,  for  that  would  have  saved  us  many  anxious 
thoughts.  But  let  us  not  regret  the  past  too  much,  only  enough 
to  cause  us  to  appreciate  the  present.  I  understand  how  you 
felt,  not  wishing  to  seem  disrespectful  to  your  father,  and  yet 
not  agreeing  with  him." 

"It  has  been  the  source  of  very  painful  feelings  to  me  to 
see  my  father  so  misled,  but  I  have  found  very  great  com 
fort  in  the  fact  that  my  mother  agrees  with  me.  She  told 
me  she  would  never  come  down  if  I  did  not  pay  for  the 
land." 

"Yes ;  Mariano  told  me  this,  and  I  beg  of  you  to  convey  to 
her  my  regrets  at  having  been  in  error  about  this  matter.  Will 
you  do  so,  please?" 

"Certainly,  madam;  with  great  pleasure." 

"I  trust  that  her  good  influence  will  be  of  great  assistance  to 
you  in  persuading  your  father  to  change  his  views." 

"Yes,  I  hope  so;  in  fact,  I  feel  pretty  sure  that,  more  or  less 
warmly,  all  of  my  brothers  and  sisters  will  agree  with  me,  es 
pecially  Everett  and  Alice.  Another  fact,  also,  is  in  my  favor, 
that  my  father  promised  to  Don  Mariano,  when  he  first  took 
up  the  land,  that  he  would  pay  for  it  if  the  Courts  decided 
against  the  settlers.  That  promise,  I  think,  will  have  a  good 
effect,  for  he  always  keeps  his  word.  When  the  appeal  is  dis 
missed  I  shall  remind  him  of  it.  In  the  meantime  I  shall 
watch  my  opportunities  to  conciliate  him,  for  I  feel  sure 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  17 1 

he  will  resent  my  having  paid  for  the  land  without  his  con 
sent." 

"That  is  a  pity.     I  am  very  sorry  for  that." 

"  It  is  unpleasant  that  he  should  take  so  decided  a  view  of 
so  clear  a  subject,  but  I  feel  perfectly  justified  in  acting  as  I  did. 
What  I  do  regret  sincerely  is  that  you  and — and  Miss  Mer 
cedes  should  not  have  known  the  truth  sooner,"  said  Clar 
ence,,  reddening  to  the  roots  of  his  hair,  for  he  felt  that  he  was 
touching  on  most  delicate  ground;  with  anxious,  beating  heart 
he  waited  for  her  reply. 

Her  face  flushed  a  little.  Was  it  pride,  or  was  it  because 
the  heart  of  woman  must  always  flutter  when  in  her  presence 
the  subject  of  love  is  approached,  in  which  ever  direction  it 
may  be,  and  no  matter  if  the  snows  of  eighty  winters  rest 
placidly  on  her  brow?  Love  is  woman's  special  province — she 
has,  or  has  had,  or  will  have,  power  there.  Man  might  take, 
and  absolutely  appropriate,  monopolize  and  exclude  her  from 
money-making,  from  politics  and  from  many  other  pursuits, 
made  difficult  to  her  by  man's  tyranny,  man's  hindrances, 
man's  objections — but  in  the  realms  of  love  he  is  not  the 
absolute  dictator,  not  the  master.  He  must  sue,  he  must  wait, 
he  must  be  patient.  Yes,  the  lord  of  creation  often  has  to  take 
snubbing  quite  meekly,  for  he  can't  help  it. 

Clarence  knew  all  this,  but  he  saw  Dona  Josefa  smile,  and 
grew  brave. 

"  Yes;  Mercedes,  poor  child,  Was  very  unhappy,  and  it  went 
to  my  heart  like  a  knife  to  send  her  away,  but  I  deemed  it  to 
be  my  duty — I  hoped  it  would  be  for  the  best." 

"And  so  it  was.     You  did  right." 

"  Yes,  but  it  did  not  enter  into  my  calculations  that  you  were 
to  jump  on  board  the  steamer,"  said  she,  laughing. 

Clarence's  face  and  ears  became  crimson. 

"I  hope  you  have  forgiven  me  for  it,"  he  stammered. 

"  I  suppose  I  must,"  said  she,  still  laughing. 

"I  assure  you  I  had  no  idea  of  doing  such  a  thing,  but  when 
1  saw  her  going  I  didn't  care  what  I  did." 


172  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE    DON. 

"And  as -you  received  some  dispatches,  you  thought  it  was 
best  to  dispatch  other  matters  as  well." 

"But,  after  all,  she  left  everything  for  you  to  dispatch.  My 
fate  is  in  your  hands." 

It  was  now  Dona  Josefa's  turn  to  blush. 

"I  thought  that  George  and  Mariano  had  decided  that." 

"No,  indeed.  It  is  all  left  to  you.  Please  be  merciful," 
he  pleaded,  feeling  very  nervous,  for  he  heard  steps  and  voices 
approaching  from  through  the  hall. 

"What  shall  I  say?" 

"Say  yes." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  smiling,  with  a  kind  look  in  her  beautiful 
eyes. 

He  glanced  quickly  toward  the  front  door,  and  seeing  no 
one  in  sight,  dropped  on  his  knees,  and  seizing  her  hand,  cov 
ered  it  with  hurried  and  vehement  kisses,  saying : 

"Thanks!  thanks!" 

And  all  before  she  knew  what  he  was  about. 

"Impetuous  boy!  is  that  the  way  you  rushed  and  assaulted 
my  poor  little  Mercedes?"  said  she,  laughing. 

"You  have  said  yes — God  bless  you  for  it." 

"But,  yes  to  what?" 

"Ah!  your  heart  will  tell  you." 

"What  is  that?  What  about  the  heart?"  asked  Don  Mari 
ano,  standing  in  the  door.  "This  looks  like  love-making.  I 
am  interested.  Let  me  hear  a  little  of  it,"  said  he,  pulling 
after  him  a  chair,  to  sit  between  Clarence  and  his  wife. 

"It  is  love-making,  only  it  is  by  proxy,  and  I  am  to  guess  at 
things  without  being  told,"  said  she,  still  laughing. 

Clarence  was  greatly  embarrassed.  He  knew  he  had  not 
formally  asked  for  the  hand  of  Mercedes  in  the  serious  man 
ner  that  the  subject  merited,  but  he  had  been  carried  away  by 
his  fears,  then  by  his  hopes,  and  the  matter  was  launched  be 
fore  he  could  scarcely  say  how.  When  for  months  past  he 
had  thought,  time  and  again,  of  a  probable  interview  with 
Dona  Josefa,  he  had  imagined  himself  talking  to  that  queenly 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  173 

lady  in  his  most  stately  Spanish.  But  now  he  had  taken  hold 
of  Cervantes'  language  —I  may  say,  jumped  into  it,  just  as  he 
had  jumped  on  the  steamer's  deck,  thinking  of  no  difficulties 
in  the  way,  except  that  they  must  be  overcome  in  order  to 
reach  Mercedes. 

He  gave  a  most  appealing  look  to  Don  Mariano,  whose  kind 
heart  immediately  responded  by  saying  to  his  wife : 

"  If  it  is  love-making,  and  you  are  to  guess  at  it,  there  won't 
be  much  delay,  for  no  woman  was  ever  slow  to  guess  such  mat 
ters.  I  know_>w/  understood  me  very  quickly." 

"Hear  him!  but  please  do  not  learn  such  frightful  lessons 
in  vanity  and  conceit,"  said  she,  laughing  again,  but  blushing 
also. 

"I  know  she  understood  what  I  meant,  when  I  would  ride 
eighty  miles  on  horseback  for  the  pleasure  of  serenading  her. 
To  do  that,  or  jump  aboard  the  steamer  after  it  is  under  way, 
means  about  the  same  thing,  I  think." 

Don  Mariano  kept  talking  in  that  strain  until  Clarence 
recovered  his  composure. 

He  then  said:  "I  have  been  your  ambassador  before  this 
queen,  and  her  majesty  has  granted  your  petition.  So  you  have 
nothing  more  to  do  now  than  to  fall  on  your  knees  and  kiss 
her  hands." 

Whereupon,  down  went  Clarence  again  on  his  knees,  and 
seizing  her  hand,  kissed  it  warmly  and  repeatedly,  in  spite  of 
Dona  Josefa's  protestations,  saying : 

"That  will  do.  Once  is  enough — once  is  enough.  Reserve 
your  kissses  for  younger  hands." 

"I'll  warrant  he  has  plenty  more  in  reserve,"  Don  Mariano 
said,  laughing. 

And  it  was  true,  for  Clarence  was  so  happy  that  he  could 
have  kissed  the  entire  Alamar  family — all,  all — irrespective  of 
age  or  sex. 

The  days  now  passed  pleasantly  and  peacefully  enough  at 
the  Alamar  rancho. 

Don   Mariano   knew  that   he  would  have  to  go  through 


174  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

many  disagreeable  scenes  with  the  squatters  when  the  appeal 
should  be  dismissed,  but  as  the  law  would  be  on  his  side 
finally,  he  confidently  hoped  to  see  the  end  of  his  troubles, 
intending  to  allow  the  squatters  to  keep  their  homes,  pro 
vided  only  that  they  would  fence  their  crops  and  pay  their  own 
taxes. 

Clarence  reconciled  himself  to  wait  until  the  fall  to  take 
that  ring  which  Mercedes  had  told  him  to  bring  himself.  This 
would  be  the  most  judicious  plan,  as  he  would  thus  take  the 
necessary  time  to  have  the  mines  prospected  and  to  decide 
about  their  purchase,  before  going  to  New  York.  In  the 
meanwhile  he  worked  in  the  garden,  fenced  and  prepared 
ground  for  planting  grapevines  and  fruit  trees.  He  read  and 
wrote  love  letters,  and  passed  nearly  all  of  his  evenings  at  the 
Alamar  house,  holding  Milord,  who  always  came  to  be  held  by 
him  as  soon  as  he  arrived. 

The  telegram  from  Fred  Haverly  came  in  due  time,  a  few 
words    only,  but    how   exhilarating   they    were    to    Clarence, 
making  his  pulse  beat  high. 
It  read  thus: 

"Prospect  splendid.  Far  better  than  described.  Have 
written  to-day.  Hurrah !" 

Like  the  telegram,  Fred's  letter  came  promptly  in  the  early 
part  of  August. 

The  ledge  was  so  wide,  Fred  said,  that  the  miners  had  sunk 
their  prospect  shaft  in  the  center  of  the  vein,  and  consequent 
ly  all  the  rock  taken  out  was  a  high-grade  ore.  That  he  was 
going  to  run  two  drifts,  and  would  then  have  a  more  correct 
idea  of  the  character  of  the  mine,  its  volume,  formation,  etc. 
Only  a  small  portion  of  the  hanging  wall  was  visible  at  the 
entrance,  as  the  shaft  went  immediately  into  the  very  heart  of 
the  broad  vein. 

"But,"  Fred  added,  "If  the  mine  proves  to  be  one- tenth 
as  good  as  it  seems,  'there  are  millions  in  it,'  literally." 

So  Clarence  must  make  up  his  mind  to  wait  develop 
ments. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  175 

In  the  meantime  the  settlers  had  harvested  their  crops  of 
nay  and  grain,  and  were  hauling  them  to  town.  Don  Mari 
ano,  as  a  matter  of  course,  had  paid  dearly  for  these  same 
crops,  with  the  sacrifice  of  his  fine  cows,  besides  very  heavy 
taxes.  He  had  sent  half  of  his  cattle  away  to  the  sierra,  and 
those  left  had  been  as  carefully  guarded  as  possible,  but  still 
the  dumb  brutes  would  be  attracted  by  the  green  grain,  and 
would  obey  the  law  of  nature,  to  go  and  eat  it,  in  utter  dis 
regard  of  the  "no  fence  law." 

Thus,  every  night  the  fusilade  of  the  law-abiding  settlers 
would  be  heard,  as  they,  to  protect  their  "rights  under  the  law" 
would  be  shooting  the  Don's  cattle  all  over  the  rancho.  In 
vain  did  he,  or  his  sons 'and  servants,  ride  out  to  find  who 
fired.  There  was  never  a  man  to  be  seen  with  a  gun  or  rifle  in 
his  hands;  it  never  could  be  proved  that  any  one  of  these 
peaceful  farmers  had  fired  a  shot.  The  cattle  were  killed,  but 
who  had  done  it  no  one  could  say.  Day  after  day  the  va- 
queros  would  come  in  and  report  the  number  of  cattle  found 
shot,  dead  or  wounded,  that  morning,  and  Gabriel  would  make 
a  note  of  the  number ;  at  the  end  of  the  month  he  would  add 
these  figures,  and  the  Don  had  the  sad  satisfaction  of  knowing 
how  many  of  his  cattle  were  killed  under  the  law.  For  although 
the  law  did  not  enjoin  upon  any  one  to  kill  cattle  in  this  man 
ner,  the  effect  was  the  same  as  if  it  had  said  so  plainly. 

"I  think  Southern  California  isn't  such  a  very  dry  country 
as  people  try  to  make  it  out.  The  settlers  on  this  rancho,  I 
reckon,  will  realize  nice  little  sums  on  their  crops  this  year," 
Mr.  Darrell  observed  at  breakfast  one  morning. 

"And  with  their  little  sums  they  should  pay  the  Don  for  the 
cattle  they  have  shot.  It  is  a  shame  to  take  his  land,  have 
him  pay  taxes,  and  then  kill  his  cattle  also,"  replied  Mrs. 
Darrell.  "Those  heartless  people  keep  me  awake  some 
times  with  their  cattle-shooting.  I  think  the  Don  and  his 
family  are  too  kind  to  bear  all  these  daily  (and  nightly)  out 
rages  so  patiently." 

"I  thought  you  had  given  it  up  as  a  bad  job  to  be  the  Don's 
champion,  Mrs.  Darrell/'  said  her  husband. 


1 76  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"If  by  being  bis  champion  I  could  save  his  cattle  there 
would  be  no  danger  of  giving  up  my  championship.  What  I 
regret  is  that  my  sympathy  should  be  so  useless." 

"  Never  mind,  mother,  the  Don  will  soon  have  the  power  to 
drive  all  this  canaille  out  of  his  rancho,"  Clarence  said. 

"Do  you  include  me  with  the  canaille'?"  asked  Darrell. 

"No,  father,  I  do  not.  I  suppose  you  have  not  forgotten 
you  promised  Don  Mariano  to  pay  for  the  land  you  located 
when  the  title  should  be  approved." 

"When  there  is  no  more  dispute  about  it,"  Darrell  ex 
plained. 

"I  understood  you  had  said  that  when  the  government  did 
not  dispute  it.  We  all  know  that  the  squatters  will  dispute  it 
as  long  as  they  can  find  lawyers,  who  for  a  fee  will  fight  against 
right  and  justice,"  Clarence  said. 

"I  will  keep  to  what  I  said — but  I  am  not  going  to 
have  my  words  construed  to  suit  everybody,"  Darrell  said, 
doggedly. 

"  How  is  the  Don  to  have  power  to  drive  off  the  settlers, 
Clary?  Tell  us,"  Webster  inquired. 

"  Don't  you  tell  him,  Clary.  He'll  go  and  tell  it  to  the  squat 
ters,"  Willie  interposed. 

"And  since  when  did  you  learn  to  call  the  settlers  squatters, 
Master  Willie?  Ain't  you  a  squatter  yourself?"  asked  Mr. 
Darrell. 

"  No,  I'm  not.   Am  I,  mamma?"  asked  Willie. 

"I  hope  not,  my  dear.  If  I  thought  any  one  in  this  family 
were  to  deserve  such  a  name  I  would  not  have  come  down  to 
this  place,"  Mrs.  Darrell  replied. 

"What  is  a  squatter,  anyhow,  mamma?"  Clementine  in 
quired. 

"A  squatter  is  a  person  who  locates  a  land  claim  on 
land  that  belongs  to  some  other  person,"  Mrs.  Darrell  ex 
plained. 

"On  land  that  other  persons  say  belongs  to  them,  but 
which  land,  as  no  one  knows  to  whom  it  belongs,  it  is  free  to 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  177 

be  occupied  by  any  American  citizen,"  Mr.  Darrell  added 
with  emphasis. 

"There  you  are  again  mixing  the  wilful  squatter  with  the 
honest  settler,  who  pre-empts  his  land  legitimately.  The  di 
viding  line  between  the  squatter  and  the  settler  is  very  clear  to 
any  one  who  honestly  wants  to  see  it,"  Mrs.  Darrell  said,  and 
three  or  four  of  her  children  started  to  explain  how  well  they 
did  see  that  line. 

"It  is  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face,"  Willie's  voice  said 
in  a  high  key.  "The  honest  settler  only  pre-empts  govern 
ment  land,  but  the  squatter  goes  into  anybody's  land  before 
he  knows  who  has  title." 

"Bravo !"  cried  Everett;  "you  got  it  straight  this  time." 

"Then  a  squatter  is  a  land  thief?"  Clementine  inquired. 

"That  is  a  severe  term,"  Alice  observed. 

"But  isn't  it  true?"  Clementine  argued. 

"No,  because  the  squatter  might  not  intend  to  steal.  He 
might  mistakenly  take  land  which  belongs  to  some  one  else. 
The  intention  is  what  makes  the  action  a  theft  or  not,"  Mrs. 
Darrell  explained. 

"But  why  should  they  make  such  mistakes?  Ain't  some 
body  there  to  say  to  whom  the  land  belongs  ?  "  Master  Willie 
inquired. 

"Yes,  but  that  somebody  might  not  be  believed,  Master 
Willie,  and  there  is  where  the  shoe  pinches,"  Webster  ex 
plained. 

"Ah!"  was  Willie's  exclamation,  and  he  became  thoughtful. 

"I  give  it  up,"  said  Clementine  with  a  sigh,  making  them 
all  laugh. 

"  That  is  a  very  wise  resolve,"  Darrell  observed. 

"I've  got  it,  papa,"  Willie's  voice  again  was  heard  saying. 

"Well,  what  have  you  got?"  his  father  asked. 

"The  government  ought  to  say  first  to  whom  the  land  be 
longs,  and  not  let  anybody  take  a  single  acre  until  the  govern 
ment  says  it  is  public  land.  Isn't  that  the  way  you  say, 
Clarence?" 


178  THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

"Oh,  you  are  quoting  Clarence.  I  thought  it  was  your  own 
original  idea  you  were  giving  us,"  Darrell  said,  and  all  laughed 
at  Willie. 

But  he  held  his  ground,  saying;  "It  is  Clarence's  idea, 
but  I  only  understood  it  this  minute,  so  now  it  is  mine." 

"That  is  right,  Willie.  That  is  the  way  correct  ideas  are 
disseminated  and  take  root,"  Everett  said. 

"And  erroneous  ones,  too,"  Darrell  added. 

"Which  is  the  correct,  papa?"  asked  Willie. 

"Your  mind  is  even  more  inquisitive  than  usual  this  morn 
ing,  Willie,"  said  Jane. 

"Suppose  it  is,  do  you  object  to  it?"  Willie  queried. 

"I  think  you  had  better  be  a  lawyer,"  Lucy  suggested. 

"I  mean  to  be.     Then  I  will  be  the  Don's  lawyer." 

"But  suppose  he  don't  want  you?"  asked  Webster. 

"But  he  will,  for  I  will  be  honest." 

'"Will  he  want  you  if  you  are  stupid,  only  because  you  are 
honest?"  asked  Clementine. 

"I  hate  girls,  they  talk  so  silly,"  said  Willie,  again  bringing 
the  laugh  on  himself. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AT  NEWPORT. 

Mr.  George  Mechlin  and  traveling  companions  had  a  most 
delightful  journey  across  the  continent  in  spite  of  the  hot 
weather. 

Mr.  Lawrence  Mechlin  and  wife  came  to  New  York  to  meet 
George's  bride  and  her  sister  and  take  them  to  Long  Branch, 
where  they  had  been  sojourning  for  the  last  two  months. 

Mrs.  Lawrence  Mechlin  was  most  favorably  impressed  with 
her  nephew's  wife  and  her  sister.  The  two  young  beauties  cap 
tivated  her  at  once.  She  was  enthusiastic. 

"  My  dear,"  said  she  after  dinner,  addressing  Elvira,  "  before 
I  saw  you  and  your  sister  I  had  been  deliberating  in  my  mind 
whether  we  should  not  go  directly  to  our  cottage  in  Newport 
and  spend  the  remainder  of  the  summer  there.  But  now  I 
think  we  had  better  go  to  Long  Branch  first,  and  then,  unless 
you  wish  to  visit  Saratoga,  we  will  go  to  Newport.  How  will 
that  do  ?  "  She  looked  at  George. 

George  smiled.  He  knew  his  aunt  must  be  much  pleased 
to  put  herself  to  the  trouble  of  this  traveling  in  hot  weather. 
He  replied : 

"  I  am  sure  these  young  ladies  will  be  most  happy  to  follow 
you,  aunt." 

"  Don't  you  all  get  too  tired.  And  this  reminds  me  that 
people  who  have  been  in  the  cars  for  ten  days  should  have  some 
rest.  The  day  will  be  cool  to-morrow;  we  need  not  go  back  to 
Long  Branch  until  the  day  after,"  said  the  senior  Mechlin. 

"  We  do  not  intend  going  to-morrow.  We  have  something 
to  do  in  town  yet,"  said  Mrs.  Mechlin. 

"  Some  shopping,  I  suppose,"  Mr.  Lawrence  observed. 


l8o  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"  Exactly,"  his  wife  assented. 

After  Mrs.  Mechlin  accompanied  Elvira  and  Mercedes  to 
their  respective  apartments,  she  returned  to  the  library,  where 
her  husband  and  nephew  were  engaged  in  conversation.  There 
was  in  Mrs.  Mechlin's  step  and  manner  a  degree  of  pleased 
elasticity,  an  amiable  buoyancy  of  contented  alacrity,  which 
betokened  that  her  mind  was  in  a  state  of  subdued  pleasurable 
excitement  which  was  to  her  very  enjoyable.  She  came  to 
George  and  kissed  him  twice,  saying : 

"  I  must  repeat  my  kiss  and  congratulations,  dear  George. 
Your  wife  is  perfection.  Where  in  the  world  did  such  beauties 
grow?  I  assure  you  I  am  perfectly  carried  away  by  those  two 
girls.  No  wonder  you  were  so  impatient  to  get  married.  They 
will  be  the  rage  next  winter,  and  I  shall  give  several  dinners 
and  receptions  in  honor  of  your  wife,  of  course." 

"  You  are  always  so  kind  to  me,  dear  aunt." 

"  No  more  than  I  ought  to  be,  but  this  time  pleasure  and 
duty  will  go  together.  I  know  I  shall  be  proud  to  present  my 
beautiful  niece  to  New  York  society.  Her  manners  are  exqui 
site.  She  is  lovely.  She  will  be  greatly  admired,  and  justly  so." 

"  You  will  have  to  arrange  for  your  parties  and  dinners  to  be 
in  December  and  February,  because  George  is  going  to  Wash 
ington  in  January,  and  the  young  ladies  will  take  that  opportu 
nity  to  visit  the  Capital  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin,  senior. 

"That  is  a  pity.     Couldn't  they  go  in  December?" 

"  No,  because  George's  business  is  with  the  Attorney  Gen 
eral,  and  he  wrote  to  me  that  he  would  not  be  ready  until 
January.  However,  January  is  six  months  off  yet.  For  the 
present,  you  have  enough  on  your  hands  with  your  plans  for 
the  summer." 

"That  is  very  true.  We  will  order  some  summer  things  to 
be  made  immediately.  But  I  feel  quite  sure  that  we  can  find 
imported  dresses  ready  made  that  will  suit.  I  saw  some  love 
ly  batists  and  grenadines  at  Arnold  &  Constable's,  just  from 
Paris,  also  beautiful  embroidered  muslins  at  Stewart's.  We 
will  see  to-morrow  and  be  ready  to  return  the  day  after." 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  l8l 

Life  at  Long  Branch  in  the  Mechlin  cottage  was  very  de 
lightful  to  Elvira  and  Mercedes.  When  they  had  been  there 
about  two  weeks,  Mr.  Robert  Gunther  appeared  on  the  scene, 
and  next  day  Mr.  Arthur  Selden  followed.  As  they  were  old 
friends  of  the  Mechlins,  Mrs.  Mechlin  thought  it  was  a  natural 
thing  that  these  two  young  gentlemen,  on  their  return  from 
their  travels,  should  come  to  see  her  at  Long  Branch. 

"  In  a  day  or  two  we  are  going  to  Newport,  young  gentle 
men,"  she  said.  "You  had  better  join  our  party  and  we'll  all 
go  together." 

"I  shall  be  most  happy.  My  mother  and  sister  have  been 
with  friends  in  the  White  Mountains,  but  will  be  at  Newport 
next  week,  so  this  arrangement  will  suit  me,"  said  Gunther. 

"It  will  suit  me,  also,  as  I  promised  my  mother  and  sisters 
I  should  be  at  Newport  in  two  weeks.  Saratoga  is  too  hot  for 
me.  I  left  them  there  under  father's  care.  He  likes  Sarato 
ga,"  Mr.  Selden  said. 

If  their  sojourn  at  Long  Branch  had  seemed  so  delightful 
to  Elvira  and  Mercedes,  their  pleasures  increased  ten-fold  at 
Newport.  The  Mechlin  villa,  shaded  by  tall  elms  and  poplars, 
and  surrounded  by  shrubbery  and  flowers,  with  a  beautiful 
lawn  and  fountains  in  front,  facing  the  ocean,  and  well-kept 
walks  and  arbors  in  different  places  on  the  grounds,  was  cer 
tainly  a  charming  abode,  fit  to  please  the  most  fastidious  taste. 
Then  the  drives,  croquet  playing,  boat  sailing  and  promenades, 
were  also  much  enjoyed  by  our  two  little  Californians.  In  the 
evenings,  music  and  dancing  would  add  variety  to  their  pleas 
ures,  until  such  life  seemed  to  them  too  charming  to  be  real. 

"And  is  this  life  repeated  every  summer,  year  after  year?" 
asked  Mercedes  one  evening  as  in  the  coming  twilight  she  was 
sitting  with  Mr.  Bob  Gunther  is  a  cozy  bower  of  roses  located 
on  a  little  knoll  in  the  grounds  of  the  Gunther  villa.  They 
were  looking  at  the  gay  equipages  which  drove  by.  Gunther 
sighed  as  he  answered. 

"Do  you  like  this  life?" 

"Very  much,  but  perhaps  because  it  is  a  novelty  to  me. 


1 82  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

However,  I  am  never  tired  of  things  that  I  once  like,  so  I  sup 
pose  I  would  like  it  always." 

She  did  not  look  at  Gunther;  her  attention  was  all  given  to 
the  beautiful  carriages  driving  by.  If  she  had  looked  at  him 
she  would  have  seen  the  intensity  of  his  passion  in  the  work 
ings  of  his  features.  For  a  moment  the  struggle  with  himself 
was  terrible;  but  controlling  his  voice  all  he  could,  he  said: 

"You  can  have  this  life  if  you  wish,  and  continue  in  the 
winters  in  a  beautiful  residence  in  New  York  or  in  Paris, 
should  you  desire  it.  You  know  it." 

"No,  I  do  not.  I  have  no  fairy  god-mother  to  give  me  pal 
aces.  Come,  let  us  go.  Where  is  everybody?"  said  she,  hur 
rying  out  of  the  arbor,  looking  about  the  .grounds  for  Elvira 
and  Miss  Gunther,  who  had  but  a  moment  before  been  near 
her.  "Ah!  there  they  are;  let  us  go  to  them." 

"Do  I  frighten  you?  or  am  I  tiresome?"  said  he,  pale  to 
the  lips,  following  her. 

"Neither;  but  young  ladies  who — who  are — I  mean  any 
young  lady,  should  not  have  such  tete-d-tetes  with  fascinating 
young  gentlemen  in  rosy  bowers." 

"Young  ladies  who  are — what?" 

"  Who  are  judicious." 

"  Were  you  not  going  to  say  *  who  are  engaged  ? ' " 

"  If  I  had,  I  might  not  have  said  the  truth,  strictly" 

"  Oh,  in  Heaven's  name,  tell  me  the  truth !  Are  you  en- 
gaged?" 

"Ask  me  no  questions,  and  I'll  tell  thee  no  lies." 

"You  are  cruel;  you. are  trifling  with  me!" 

She  stopped  and  looked  up  quickly  into  his  eyes.  For  a 
moment  she  hesitated,  then  resolutely  said: 

"  Mr.  Gunther,  I  like  you  very  much.  Don't  talk  to  me  like 
this.  I  want  to  find  pleasure  in  your  society,  but  I  shall  not  if 
you  talk  so  to  me.  I  am  not  and  have  never  been  cruel,  and 
it  never  entered  my  head  to  trifle  with  you — never ! " 

"  Forgive  me  this  time.     I  shall  never  offend  again." 

He  looked  so  distressed  that  Mercedes  felt  very  sorry  for 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  183 

him.  She  would  have  comforted  him  if  she  could.  They 
walked  in  silence  a  few  steps,  but  as  he  still  looked  pale,  she 
did  not  wish  the  other  ladies  to  see  him.  They  were  walking 
towards  the  house.  Pointing  to  a  narrow  path  leading  towards 
the  seashore,  she  said: 

"  That  path  goes  to  your  boat-house,  I  suppose." 

"Yes.     I  have  a  new  boat;  would  you  like  to  see  it?" 

"  Is  it  far?    You  see  it  is  getting  late." 

"  We  can  come  back  in  ten  minutes." 

"Truly?     No  longer  than  ten  minutes?" 

"  Not  a  second  longer  unless  you  wish  it." 

"  Come,"  said  she,  turning  quickly  into  the  little  path,  and 
he  followed  her.  She  did  not  care  a  straw  to  see  the  boat,  but 
she  wanted  to  give  him  time  to  get  back  the  color  to  his  face. 
She  walked  so  fast  down  the  hill;  she  almost  ran.  She  looked 
back;  he  was  following  close.  She  began  to  laugh  and  started 
to  run.  He  ran  after  her,  and  they  did  not  stop  until  they  got 
to  the  beach. 

"How  long  is  it  since  we  started?"  she  asked.  He  looked 
at  his  watch. 

"  Not  quite  two  minutes,"  he  answered. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  for  running,  obliging  you  to  run,  but  I 
felt  like  it  when  I  saw  the  blue  water.  It  reminded  me  of  home, 
of  San  Diego." 

"  No  apology  is  needed.  If  it  gave  you  pleasure  to  run,  I 
am  glad  you  did  so." 

"  One  look  only,  and  then  we  must  go  back.  Perhaps  we 
had  better  return;  I  hear  horses  coming,"  she  said,  and  at  the 
same  time  Mr.  Selden  and  his  youngest  sister  came  down  by 
the  boat-house  at  a  gallop.  His  face  flushed  and  became  pale, 
but  he  lifted  his  hat  as  he  passed.  Gunther  did  the  same,  in 
answer  to  Miss  Selden's  salutation. 

"  Let  us  return.  More  riders  might  be  passing,"  said  Mer 
cedes,  and  began  to  walk  back. 

"What!  without  seeing  the  boat?" 

"  It  will  be  dark  inside  the  house.  I'll  come  some  other 
time,  earlier." 


1 84  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"Do  you  promise  me  that?" 

"Certainly.  You  see,  we  can't  run  as  fast  uphill;  it  will 
take  more  than  two  minutes  to  return." 

Again  the  galloping  of  horses  was  heard,  and  Selden,  with 
his  sister,  passed  on  their  way  back  just  as  Mercedes  and  Gun- 
ther  reached  the  bank  at  the  edge  of  the  lawn  and  sat  down  to 
rest. 

Selden's  sister  had  noticed  how  he  flushed  and  how  livid  he 
became  a  minute  after,  and  faithfully  reported  the  fact  to  her 
vigilant  mamma  as  soon  as  she  got  home.  Arthur  would  be 
watched  now.  His  mamma  knew  that  he  was  a  millionaire  and 
considered  "  a  catch." 

The  Seldens  had  been  abroad  many  years,  the  greater 
time  in  England,  and  had  acquired  some  English  habits,  one 
of  which  was  to  dine  late.  That  evening  Arthur  did  not  come 
down  to  dinner  until  half-past  eight  o'clock.  He  was  afraid 
he  would  be  questioned  regarding  the  young  lady  with  Robert 
Gunther.  He  felt  too  angry  with  his  friend  to  hear  his  name 
spoken.  But  it  was  unavoidable.  As1  soon  as  he  took  his 
seat  at  the  table  his  mother  asked: 

"Who  was  the  lady  with  Robert  on  the  beach?" 

"When?" 

"This  evening  as  we  .rode  by  his  boat-house,"  explained  his' 
sister. 

"Were  they  coming  out  of  the  boat-house?"  asked  the  elder 
sister.  Arthur's  lips  became  white  again. 

"Don't  be  alarmed.  They  did  not  go  into  the  boat-house," 
said  he,  sneeringly. 

"I?  I  alarmed?  It  seems  to  me  you  are  the  one  alarmed. 
I  might  say  frightened,"  she  replied,  reddening  like  a  peony, 
trembling  with  anger,  as  she  well  understood  her  brother 
meant  to  allude  to  her  well  known  fondness  for  Bob. 

"Who  is  the  lady,  any  way?  I  ask,"  reiterated  Mrs.  Selden. 

"She  is  George  Mechlin's  sister-in-law,"  Arthur  replied. 

"  Ah !  That  is  the  beauty  I  hear  half  a  dozen  fellows  are 
raving  about,"  said  Miss  Selden,  to  pique  her  brother. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  185 

"Is  she  so  very  pretty,  Arthur?"  asked  the  younger  sister. 

"  I  never  saw  any  woman  so  beautiful  in  all  my  life,"  he  an 
swered,  with  dogged  resolution  as  if  about  to  pull  the  string  of 
his  shower  bath. 

The  mother  and  daughters  exchanged  looks.  They  under 
stood  it  all  now.  Poor  Arthur,  he,  too,  was  raving. 

"By-the-by,  I  met  Mechlin  in  the  street  to-day,  and  he 
asked  if  any  one  was  sick  in  our  family,"  observed  Mr.  Selden, 
senior. 

"I  understand.  We  will  call  to-morrow,"  Mrs.  Selden  said, 
sententiously.  "We  will  see  the  beauties." 

And  they  did  When  they  were  in  their  carriage  riding 
home,  Mrs.  Selden  said: 

"I  am  sorry  for  Arthur  if  he  is  in  love  with  that  girl.  I  fear 
he  will  never  get  over  it." 

"So  much  the  better  if  he  marries  her,"  said  the  younger 
sister. 

"Yes,  but  if  he  does  not,  he'll  never  have  any  heart  left." 

"Do  you  suppose  she  would  refuse  him?"  said  the  elder  sis 
ter,  haughtily. 

"I  don't  know ;  I  must  have  a  talk  with  Arthur." 

She  had  a  talk  with  Arthur,  and  when  he  saw  evasion  would 
be  useless,  he  told  her  all  about  his  love  and  why  he  believed 
it  hopeless,  judging  by  what  he  heard  George  say. 

"But  if  she  is  not  positively  engaged  to  that  Darrell,  why 
should  you  fear  him  more  than  you  fear  Gunther?" 

"Because  I  believe  she  loves  him." 

"Perhaps.  But  we  are  not  sure  of  it.  Moreover,  he  is  far 
off  in  California,  and  you  are  here." 

Arthur  shook  his  head  despondingly,  but,  nevertheless,  he 
was  pleased  to  hear  his  mother  say  that  they  must  entertain 
those  two  Californians,  and  Mrs.  Mechlin  would  think  it  was 
all  intended  as  a  compliment  to  herself. 

The  Gunthers  being  more  intimate  with  the  Mechlins,  should 
not  be  outdone  by  the  Seldens  in  courtesy  to  these  two  ladies 
(at  least  such  was  the  opinion  expressed  by  Robert  to  his 


1 86  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

mother),  and  thus  a  day  hardly  passed  without  some  entertain 
ment  for  their  amusement. 

Arthur  closed  his  eyes  to  the  future  and  let  himself  float 
down  this  stream  of  sweet  pleasures,  knowing  that  they  were 
but  a  dream,  and  yet  for  that  reason  more  determined  to  drink 
the  last  drop  of  that  nectar  so  intoxicating,  and  enjoy  being 
near  her,  within  the  sound  of  her  voice,  within  the  magic  circle 
of  her  personality.  The  thought  that  he  had  seen  her  with  Gun- 
ther  rambling  on  the  beach  had  been  at  first  very  bitter  and 
disconcerting,  but  when  he  had  learned  that  she  had  intended 
going  to  see  the  boat,  but  changed  her  mind,  he  consoled 
himself,  and  more  easily  yet,  when  he  observed  that  Gunther 
and  other  admirers  made  no  more  progress  as  suitors  than  he 
did  himself. 

Misery  loves  company,  sure.  Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  Mr. 
Arthur  Selden  did  not  deceive  himself  with  any  very  great 
hopes  of  success;  still,  such  is  the  complexity  of  man's  aspira 
tions  and  man's  reasoning,  that  he  determined  to  speak  to 
Mercedes  of  his  love,  for  he  had  never  done  so — had  never 
offered  himself  to  her.  He  would  know  the  worst  from  her 
own  lips.  So  one  morning  in  the  month  of  September,  when 
George  Mechlin  and  his  uncle  had  gone  to  New  York  on  busi 
ness  on  account  of  Jay  Cook's  failure,  Selden  saw  the  two 
Misses  Mechlin  out  driving  on  the  road  towards  Fort  Adams. 
He  concluded  that  the  two  Misses  Mechlin  must  be  going  to 
call  on  the  officers'  wives,  stationed  at  the  Fort,  and  Mercedes 
must  be  alone  at  home.  He  immediately  took  a  side  road 
thus  to  avoid  meeting  the  Mechlins  and  drove  directly  to  the 
Mechlin  villa.  He  found  Mercedes  alone  in  the  library,  where 
she  had  gone  for  a  book  to  take  to  her  room. 

"  Mr.  Arthur  Selden,"  said  the  tall  servant  at  the  library  door, 
and  behind  his  broad  shoulders  peeped  Arthur's  red  whiskers. 

"  I  took  the  liberty  of  following  the  servant,"  said  he,  "  be 
cause  I  hoped  we  would  be  less  interrupted  here." 

"Undoubtedly,"  replied  she,  laughing  and  offering  him  a 
chair;  "very  logical  deduction." 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  1 87 

"Don't  laugh  at  me,  please,"  said  he,  blushing;  "I  know 
you  are  thinking  that  others  might  follow  you  here  as  well  as  I, 
and  it  is  so,  but  you  see,  Miss  Mercedes,  I  am  in  despair  at 
times.  I  have  been  wishing  to  speak  to  you  alone,  but  I  never 
have  a  chance." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Selden,  you  see  me  very  often." 

"  Yes,  but  not  alone,  not  where  I  could  tell  you  all  I  feel  for 
you,  and  beg  you  not  to  drive  me  to  despair.  You  know  I 
have  loved  you  from  the  first  instant  I  saw  you.  Can  I  hope 
ever  to  win  your  love?  May  I  hope,  or  is  my  love  hopeless?" 

"  Mr.  Selden,  I  like  you  very  much,  but  please  do  not  ask 
me  to  love  you.  It  is  not  possible." 

"Why  not?  Is  it  because  I  am  not  handsome  like  Bob 
Gunther?"  said  he,  with  a  painful  sneer.  "Believe  me,  I  shall 
be  a  devoted,  loving  husband;  none  can  love  you  more  passion 
ately  and  devotedly." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it.  But  I  cannot.  Please  don't  ask  me, 
and  don't  hate  me." 

"  Mr.  Robert  Gunther,"  said  the  tall  waiter,  and  Bob's  broad 
brow  and  good-natured  smile  shone  at  the  door. 

The  delightful  sojourn  at  Newport  was  now  over.  The 
Mechlin  family  were  again  at  their  town  residence  in  New  York 
City.  Elvira  and  Mercedes,  as  it  was  their  habit,  were  that 
evening  having  their  cosy  chat  before  going  to  bed. 

"  So  Clarence  will  be  here  next  month,"  Elvira  remarked. 

"Yes,  he  says  he  will  spend  Christmas  with  us,  and  if  we'll 
let  him,  he  will  go  with  us  to  Washington." 

"That  will  be  delightful.  I  suppose  Gunther  and  your 
other  numerous  slaves  will  disappear  when  he  arrives." 

"They  ought  not,  for  I  have  never  encouraged  any  one  any 
more  than  if  I  had  been  married  already." 

"But  you  are  not,  my  darling,  and  that  makes  a  very  great 
difference  with  young  gentlemen." 

"Why  is  it  that  Mrs.  Mechlin  does  not  approve  of  my  being 
engaged  to  Clarence?" 

"Because  she  had  set  her  heart  upon  your  marrying  Gun 
ther,  who  is  a  great  favorite  of  hers." 


1 88  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

"I  am  sorry  to  disappoint  her,  for  she  has  been  so  sweet  and 
good  to  me,  but  I  can't  help  it.  Here  are  the  letters  I  got 
from  home.  I'll  leave  them  for  you  to  read,  and  you  let  me 
have  yours.  I  hear  George  coming  up  stairs,  I  must  go  to 
my  room." 

"Well,  pussy,  haven't  you  had  a  nice  frolic  at  Newport?" 
said  George,  stopping  Mercedes  at  the  door  and  making  her 
come  back  into  the  room  again. 

"Indeed  I  have,"  Mercedes  answered. 

"  And  haven't  you  broken  hearts  as  if  they  were  old  cracked 
pottery?" 

"They  must  have  been,  to  be  broken  so  easily.  But  I  guess 
I  didn't  hurt  any  very  much." 

"Indeed  you  did.  Besides  Gunther  and  Selden  who  are 
given  up  as  incurable,  there  are  three  or  four  others  very  badly 
winged.  Poor  fellows,  and  friends  of  mine,  too.  It  is  like  an 
epidemic,  uncle  says." 

"Clarence  will  soon  be  here  and  stop  the  epidemic  from 
spreading  any  further,"  Elvira  said. 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  But  I  am  glad  he  is  coming. 
When  will  he  be  here?" 

"About  Christmas — perhaps  about  the  twentieth  of  Decem 
ber,"  Mercedes  answered.  "He  says  he  will  telegraph  to  you 
the  day  he  starts." 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  see  him;  he  is  a  noble  fellow,"  said  he, 
and  embraced  Mercedes,  saying  good  night. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

IN  NEW  YORK. 

Cards  for  Mrs.  Mechlin's  ball,  on  the  27th  of  December, 
had  been  out  for  two  or  three  days,  when,  on  the  20th  of  that 
same  month  and  year — 1873 — Clarence  arrived  at  the  Ameri- 
ican  metropolis.  He  was  in  a  high  state  of  excitement.  He 
could  scarcely  repress  his  impatience  to  see  Mercedes,  and  yet 
he  exerted  sufficient  self-control  to  go  first  to  Tiffany  and  pur 
chase  the  finest  diamond  ring  in  the  establishment.  He  even 
was  patient  enough  to  wait  until  the  diamond  which  he  selected 
was  reset  in  a  ring  from  which  an  emerald  was  removed.  When 
the  exchange  was  made  and  the  jewel  paid  for,  he  told  the 
driver  to  hasten  to  Mr.  Mechlin's  house. 

George  and  his  uncle  had  just  come  from  their  office  when 
Clarence  arrived,  so  he  met  them  in  the  hall  as  he  entered. 
George  presented  him  to  his  uncle,  and  the  three  walked  into 
the  library.  The  cordial  manner  in  which  Clarence  was  re 
ceived  by  Mr.  Mechlin,  demonstrated  clearly  how  favorably 
this  gentleman  was  impressed. 

After  conversing  with  him,  while  George  went  to  carry  the 
news  of  his  arrival  up-stairs,  Mr.  Mechlin,  when  George  re 
turned,  invited  him  to  dine  with  them,  saying  : 

"  I  feel  as  if  you  were  not  quite  a  stranger  to  us,  having 
heard  George  speak  of  you  so  often,  and  always  most  kindly." 

Clarence  hesitated,  but  George  insisted,  and  he  remained. 
Then  the  two  friends  sat  down  to  chat  while  the  ladies  came 
down.  In  a  few  minutes  Clarence  had  given  a  synopsis  of 
home  news. 

"And  what  about  mining  news?"  George  asked. 

"Splendid,"  was  the  reply. 


190  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

And  Clarence  quickly  told  him  how  rich  his  mines  had 
turned  out,  and  how  he  had  already  sold  six  hundred  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  ore,  and  had  an  offer  of  one  million  dollars 
for  the  mines,  but  the  Haverly  brothers  advised  him  not  to 
sell.  That  he  thought  of  putting  up  crushing  mills  in  the 
spring. 

Mr.  Mechlin  went  into  his  wife's  room  without  knocking — 
an  omission  indicative  of  great  pre-occupation  of  mind — and 
his  words  proved  that  to  be  the  case. 

"But  that  young  fellow  is  splendid,  wife." 

"What  young  fellow?" 

"  That  young  Darrell,  from  California." 

"Ah!  where  did  you  see  him  ?" 

"Down  stairs.  He  is  talking  with  George  in  the  library, 
and  I  asked  him  to  take  dinner  with  us." 

"He  might  be  splendid — but  never  superior  to  Bob  Gun- 
ther — never!"  said  Mrs.  Mechlin,  with  firmness. 

"  Perhaps  not  superior,  mentally  or  morally,  but  he  is  cer 
tainly  much  handsomer." 

"Handsomer  than  Bob  ?     The  idea  ! " 

"You  wait  until  you  see  him,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin,  going  into 
his  room  to  get  ready  for  dinner. 

If  Mercedes'  hands  had  not  trembled  so  much  she  would  have 
been  ready  to  come  down  stairs  much  sooner. 

"  If  you  had  accepted  aunt's  offer  to  get  you  a  maid  you 
would  not  labor  under  so  many  difficulties,"  said  Elvira,  com 
ing  into  Mercedes'  room  as  she  was  going  down  stairs.  "You 
have  never  dressed  yourself  without  some  one  to  help  you  at 
home,  whether  it  was  my  squaw,  your  squaw,  or  mamma's,  or 
the  other  girls,  or  whether  it  was  your  own  Madame  Halier— 
you  always  had  an  attendant." 

,  "That  is  so,"  Mercedes  said,  ready  to  cry.  "I  am  so  ut 
terly  useless  when — when — sometimes — but  how  could  I  ac 
cept  a  maid?  It  would  have  been  an  extravagance  after  the 
many  dresses  and  other  things  bought  for  me.  I  couldn't." 

"  I  wish  I  had  thought  of  sending  my  maid  to  help  you," 
said  Elvira,  coming  to  Mercedes'  assistance. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  191 

"I  wish  so,  too,  now;  but  I  didn't  think  I  wanted  her, 
as  Mrs.  Mechlin's  maid  had  dressed  my  hair.  What  I  dread 
is  that  your  aunt  will  be  present  when  I  meet  him,  and — and 
as  she  don't  like  him — " 

"Nonsense.  She  likes  Bob  Gunther,  that's  all.  But  she 
will  not  go  down  before  we  do  if  she  knows  Clarence  is  here. 
She  will  give  you  time  to  meet  him  first." 

With  Elvira's  assistance  Mercedes  at  last  was  ready,  and  with 
trembling  knees,  which  scarcely  supported  her  light  weight,  she 
managed  to  walk  down  stairs. 

"  Don't  run  so  fast,  dear.    I  want  you  by  me,"  said  she. 

"  Take  my  arm,  old  lady,"  said  Elvira,  laughing. 

The  rustle  of  silk  approaching  put  Clarence  in  a  tremor — 
making  him  forget  what  he  was  saying. 

Elvira  entered,  and  he  rose  to  meet  her. 

"  I  must  salute  you  Spanish  fashion,"  she  said,  embracing 
him. 

"Where  is  pussy?"  said  George,  going  towards  the  door, 
but  as  the  train  of  Elvira's  dress  lay  in  his  way,  he  looked 
down  and  pushed  it  aside. 

Mercedes,  who  had  remained  behind  the  door,  saw  him  do 
so,  and  burst  out  laughing,  for  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  George 
was  expecting  to  find  pussy  entangled  in  Elvira's  train. 

"Here  she  is,  laughing  at  me,"  said  George,  taking  her  arm. 

She  looked  so  lovely,  that  Clarence  stood  looking  at  her  in 
silence,  not  even  taking  a  step  to  meet  her. 

"Mr.  Darrell,  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said,  still 
laughing,  all  her  fear  and  trembling  having  left  her.  She 
extended  her  hand  to  him  with  perfect  composure. 

Elvira  looked  at  her  surprised.  She  herself  was  surprised 
at  her  sudden  and  perfect  calmness.  Because  George  made 
hejr  laugh  looking  for  pussy  in  Elvira's  train,  she  lost  all 
her  fear. 

"This  is  a  step  from  the  sublime  to  the  ridiculous,"  she  said 
to  herself,  as  she  became  of  a  sudden  philosophically  calm. 

When  she  explained  what  had  made  her  laugh,  all  joined 


192  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

her,  remembering .  that  it  had  indeed  seemed  as  if  George 
was  looking  for  some  small  object  hidden  in  the  ruffles  of 
Elvira's  train. 

Those  rosy  lips  and  pearly  teeth  looked  so  sweet,  and  the 
little  dimples  so  charming  when  she  laughed,  that  Clarence 
would  have  been  satisfied  to  remain  there  looking  at  them  for 
an  indefinite  length  of  time  without  saying  anything,  only 
holding  her  hand  in  his,  and  looking  into  her  eyes.  But 
other  people  were  not  so  entranced,  and  as  now  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Mechlin  came  in,  all  proceeded  to  the  dining-room,  after 
George  had  presented  him  to  his  aunt. 

Mrs.  Mechlin  was  a  little  cold  in  her  manner  at  first,  think 
ing  that  surely  Bob  must  give  up  all  hopes.  But  being  a  very 
courteous  hostess,  her  manner  soon  became  affable,  she  en 
gaged  Clarence  in  conversation,  asking  him  about  fruit-raising 
in  California,  and  about  those  wonderfully  rich  mines,  which 
had  given  so  many  millions  to  the  wrorld.  Mr.  Mechlin  also 
became  much  interested  in  what  Clarence  had  to  say.  Before 
dinner  was  over,  Mercedes  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  that  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Mechlin  were  more  than  favorably  impressed  with 
her  intended. 

After  dinner  many  callers  began  to  arrive.  Clarence  had 
not  spoken  a  word  yet  to  Mercedes  alone.  He  followed  her 
with  his  eyes  and  watched — without  seeming  too  watchful — for 
an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  her  without  being  overheard. 

At  last  the  desired  moment  came,  and  he  was  able  to  whis 
per  a  few  words. 

She  blushed  as  she  replied:  "Perhaps  not  this  evening — 
there  are  so  many  here." 

"I  brought  you  the  ring  which  you  told  me  I  was  not  to  send 
but  bring  in  person." 

"Bring  it  to-morrow,"  she  said,  with  deeper  blush. 

"At  what  time?" 

"Perhaps  between  ten  and  eleven." 

Clarence  returned  to  Elvira's  side,  and  had  to  console  him 
self  with  studying  how  Mercedes  could  have  become  more 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  193 

beautiful  when  it  had  seemed  that  it  would  be  impossible  for 
any  human  being  to  be  more  perfect. 

He  was  deliciously  occupied  in  pondering  upon  this  prob 
lem  when  ices  and  cakes,  tea  and  coffee  were  served  by  two 
waiters,  in  white  gloves,  and  very  irreproachable  manners,  and 
now  Clarence  could  have  the  happiness  of  taking  his  ice  cream 
beside  Mercedes. 

Next  day,  at  half-past  ten  exactly,  Clarence  ran  up  the  steps 
of  the  Mechlin  mansion.  He  gave  his  card  to  the  servant  for 
Miss  Alamar,  and  asked  for  no  one  else,  but  Elvira  came  from 
the  library  as  she  heard  his  voice. 

"Aunt  and  myself  are  going  to  attend  to  some  shopping. 
You  will  stay  to  luncheon,  won't  you?  Aunt  requests  it.  I 
am  glad  she  likes  you." 

"I  am  truly  grateful  to  her,  and  much  pleased,  indeed.  But 
I  shall  be  making  a  very  long  call  if  I  wait.  I  shall  go  and  re 
turn  at  one — hadn't  I  better?" 

"If  you  have  anything  else  to  do  this  morning,  of  course,  go 
and  return.  We  lunch  at  one." 

"I  have  nothing  on  earth  to  do  but  to  see  you  people  and 
wait  on  you.  I  hope  you  won't  get  tired  of  me.  I  was  in 
hopes  you  two  would  go  with  me  to  see  some  very  pretty 
things  at  Tiffany's." 

"We  are  going  there  now.  I  promised  aunt  to  go  with 
her.  Mercedes  and  I,  you  mean,  I  suppose,  can  go  with 
you  to-morrow?  " 

Mrs.  Mechlin  now  came  down  stairs,  and  Clarence  waited 
on  them  to  their  carriage. 

As  he  closed  the  carriage  door  Mrs.  Mechlin  said:  "Elvira 
has  told  you  we  shall  expect  you  to  luncheon." 

"Yes,  madam;  thank  you,"  said  he,  bowing. 

The  carriage  drove  off,  and  Mrs.  Mechlin  said:  "He  is  cer 
tainly  very  handsome.  I  am  sorry  for  Bob." 

When  Clarence  returned  he  met  Mercedes  in  the  hall.  She 
was  evidently  frightened,  and  so  was  he,  but  soon  rallied  as  he 
followed  her  into  the  library. 


194  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Tell  me  more  about  home,  now  that  we  are  alone,"  said 
she,  pushing  a  chair  for  him,  and  occupying  another  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  fire-place,  with  a  graceful  affability,  which  re 
minded  him  of  his  interview  with  Dona  Josefa  on  the  veranda 
at  the  rancho. 

He  understood  by  her  manner  and  the  position  of  the 
chairs,  which  had  high  backs  and  high  arms,  that  the  inter 
view  was  to  be  very  formal,  and  so  he  took  his  seat  accord 
ingly — far  off  and  demurely. 

"Where  shall  I  begin?"  said  he,  with  mock  gravity. 

"Anywhere — at  the  top  with  papa,  or  at  the  bottom  with 
Tisha.  It  will  all  be  interesting." 

"Can't  I  begin  at  the  middle,  for  instance,  with  myself?" 

"Yes;  but  you  are  here — I  see  you." 

"Do  you?  At  this  distance?  Don't  you  want  a  tele 
scope?." 

"  You  are  near  enough,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"I  can't  talk  of  anybody  but  you.  What  is  the  use  of  put 
ting  me  in  this  chair  like  a  bad  child  that  must  be  punished  by 
being  roasted  alive ! " 

"Are  you  too  near  the  fire?" 

"  And  too  far  from  you,"  said  he,  rising,  and  going  to  sit 
on  a  sofa,  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  She  kept  her  seat 
by  the  fire-place.  "Please  come  here.  I  have  so  much  to 
say  to  you.  It  will  give  me  a  headache  to  sit  so  near  the 
fire." 

She  arose,  walked  over  to  where  he  was,  and  sat  on  another 
arm-chair  nearest  to  the  sofa. 

"Let  us  freeze  at  this  end  of  the  room,"  she  said. 

"Are  you  cold?     If  you  are,  let  us  go  back  to  the  fire." 

She  did  look  a  little  cold,  with  her  pretty  little  hands 
calmly  folded  on  her  lap,  but  she  smiled. 

He  drew  a  low  seat  close  to  hers,  and  took  the  soft  hands 
into  his,  saying  in  beseeching  accents : 

"Let  me  sit  by  you,  please.  After  so  many  weary  months 
of  absence  grant  me  this  happiness.  You  told  me  not  to  send 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  195 

but  bring  our  engagement  ring.     Here  it  is.     Let  me  put  it 

on  the  dear  little  finger  myself." 

So  saying  he  put  the  ring  on,  and  covered  the  hand  with 

kisses.     Mercedes'  face  was  suffused  with  blushes,  and  she  did 

not  dare  look  at  the  ring. 

"I  have  been  longing  for  this  moment  of  bliss,  Mercedes, 

my  own,  my  precious.    You  are  pledged  to  me  now.    Look  at 

me,  my  sweet  wife!" 

"What  a  foolish  boy!"  she  said,  covering  her  face. 

"Now  you  must  set  the  day  of  our  marriage.     Let  it  be 

the  day  after  we  arrive.     Let  us  be  married  at  San  Francisco. 

Why  not?"       ' 

"You  must  ask  mamma  and  papa.    Talk  to  Elvira  about  it." 
"  I  will.    She  will  not  object.    Particularly  as  Mechlin  intends 

going  to  reside  in  California,  and  engaging  in  business  there. 

So  you  see,  it  will  be  just  the  thing  for  our  marriage  to  take 

place  as  soon  as  we  arrive.     I  think  it  would  be  so  nice  for  all 

your  family,  and  my  mother  and  Alice  and  Everett  to  come  to 

meet  us  at  San  Francisco,  and  we  be  married  there,  and  I  then 

take  you  to  your  house,  which  will  be  ready  for  you." 
"I  don't  know  whether  mamma  would  approve — " 
"Oh,  my  precious!  Why  not?  She  will,  if  you  say  you 

wish  it  so.     I  will  write  to-day  to  Hubert.     I  shall  telegraph 

him  to  buy  the  handsome  house  he  told  me  was  for  sale.    Shall 

I  telegraph?" 

She  looked  down  reflectingly.      Suddenly  she  uttered  an 

exclamation  of  surprise.     She  had  seen  the  ring  for  the  first 

time. 

"I  had  not  seen  this  diamond.    Is  it  not  too  magnificent  for 

an  engagement  ring?" 

"Nothing  is  too  magnificent  for  you." 

"But,  really,  will  it  not  attract  too  much  attention?" 

"  I  think  not.     You  are  not  ashamed  of  it,  are  you?" 

"No,  indeed.     Only  it  might  be  considered  too  large  for 

an  engagement  ring,"  she  said.     But  observing  that  he  looked 

pained,  she  added:  "It  is  very  beautiful.     It  is  like  a  big  drop 

of  sunlight," 


196  THE   SQUATTER  AND   THE   DOK. 

"I  am  glad  you  like  it.  But  perhaps  it  might  not  be  consid 
ered  in  good  taste  for  an  engagement  ring.  Let  us  go  to  Tif 
fany's  now  and  ask  your  sister.  I'll  give  you  all  home  news  as 
we  drive  down.  But  don't  you  remove  the  ring.  I  am  super 
stitious  about  that." 

Mercedes  laughed  and  arose,  saying:  "I  will  not  touch  it. 
I'll  go  now  to  put  on  my  Bonnet.  Elvira  told  me  I  may  drive 
down  with  you  to  Tiffany's,  if  I  wished.  I  won't  be  gone  but 
two  minutes." 

"When  am  I  going  to  have  one  sweet  kiss?"  said  he,  in 
pleading  tones.  "Only  one." 

"I  don't  know — I  can't  tell,"  she  said,  running  off,  eluding 
him. 

The  gentle  motion  of  Mrs.  Mechlin's  luxuriantly  cushioned 
carriage  invited  conversation,  and  Elvira  soon  perceived  that 
her  aunt  desired  to  know  all  about  Clarence's  family  and 
history  and  wished  to  obtain  all  necessary  information  in  that 
respect  as  they  drove  down  Broadway  to  Tiffany's,  Elvira 
therefore  proceeded  to  enlighten  the  good  lady,  remembering, 
however,  that  George  had  cautioned  her  never  to  mention 
that  old  Darrell  had  taken  land  on  the  rancho  in  the  sincere 
conviction  that  by  wise  enactments  of  Congress,  to  rob  people 
of  their  lands,  was  and  had  been  made  a  most  honest  trans 
action. 

"My  aunt  will  not  understand,"  George  had  said,  "and 
never  realize  the  effect  that  our  legislation  has  upon  us,  as  a 
nation,  particularly  upon  the  untraveled,  the  stay-at-home 
Americans,  and  more  specially  yet,  the  farmers.  She  will  not 
believe  old  Darrell  honest  in  his  error,  and  no  matter  whether 
Clarence  might  be  the  prince  of  good  fellows,  to  her  he  will 
always  be  the  son  of  a  squatter,  of  one  who  steals  land.  No  mat 
ter  under  whose  sanction — theft  is  theft  to  her — and  she  would 
snap  her  fingers  at  the  entire  Senate  and  House  of  Represen 
tatives,  if  those  honorable  bodies  undertook  to  prove  to  her 
that  by  getting  together  and  saying  that  they  can  authorize 
American  citizens  to  go  and  take  the  property  of  other  citi- 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  1 97 

zens  (without  paying  for  it)  and  keep  it — and  fight  for  it 
to  keep  it — that  the  proceeding  is  made  honorable  and 
lawful." 

Remembering  these  words  of  George,  Elvira  spoke  highly 
of  Mrs.  Darrell  and  the  other  members  of  the  family,  but  said 
very  little  of  the  head  thereof.  Still,  as  there  was  much  to  say 
about  Clarence  himself,  very  favorable  to  that  young  gentle 
man,  the  time  was  agreeably  occupied  with  his  biography, 
while  the  two  ladies  drove  through  Broadway. 

"I  noticed  last  evening  that  his  manners  are  very  good,"  said 
Mrs.  Lawrence  Mechlin,  speaking  of  Clarence.  "You  know, 
my  dear,  that  I  have  a  confirmed  dread  of  bad-mannered  people. 
They  spread  discord  and  discomfort  wherever  they  are.  And 
apropos  of  manners,  I  must  not  omit  saying  that  Mercedes' 
behavior  last  evening  was  all  that  could  be  desired  in  a  well- 
bred  young  lady.  A  great  many  quite  nice  young  ladies  on 
'such  an  occasion  would  have  gone  into  the  library,  or  the 
little  boudoir,  or  the  other  parlors,  or  would  have  sat  on  the 
stairs,  anywhere,  to  have  a  whispered  tete-cl-tete  with  \\er  fiance. 
Your  sister  remained  in  the  drawing-room,  like  a  lady,  though 
I  know  well  enough  her  heart  was  longing  to  express  how 
glad  she  was  to  see  him.  And  he,  too,  behaved  very  well. 
Did  not  hang  about  her,  but  was  courteous  to  all  the  ladies. 
I  noticed  last  summer  that  Mercedes  was  not  fond  of  running 
off  to  have  a  tete-a-tete  with  this  one,  and  then  with  another, 
as  many  of  our  girls  do,  but  I  thought  she  avoided  it  on 
account  of  being  engaged.  Now,  however,  I  see  that  her  rea 
son  is  even  a  better  one.  That  it  is  inbred  self-respect,  a  lady's 
sense  of  decorum." 

"I  am  glad  you  think  so  well  of  my  sister,  dear  aunt;  and  I 
think  she  is  naturally  refined  and  lady-like.  But  as  for  run 
ning  off  to  have  tete-a-tetes  with  gentlemen  is  a  thing  never 
seen  among  our  Spanish  girls.  I  know  that  we,  Spanish 
people,  are  criticised  and  much  ridiculed  for  keeping  girls 
too  strictly  guarded,  and  in  some  instances  this  may  be  so, 
but  as  a  general  thing,  the  girls  themselves  like  to  be  guarded. 


198  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

We  have  all  the  freedom  that  is  good  for  us.  Now,  for  in 
stance,  I  told  Mercedes  she  may  receive  Clarence  alone,  and 
after  they  had  their  talk  together,  that  she  might  drive  down 
and  join  us  here.  I  know  I  can  trust  her." 

"That  is  right.  I  am  glad  you  told  her  to  come,  for  I  want 
to  give  her  a  Christmas  present,  and  would  like  to  have  some 
idea  of  her  taste  in  jewelry." 

In  due  time  the  two  ladies  arrived  at  the  jeweler's,  and 
very  soon  after  Mercedes  and  Clarence  joined  them.  The 
ring  was  submitted  to  Mrs.  Mechlin's  dictum^  and  she  pro 
nounced  it  superb,  not  at  all  inappropriate  for  an  engagement 
ring.  Meantime,  however,  Clarence  had  seen  another  which  he 
liked  best,  and  he  bought  it  at  once.  It  was  made  of  large 
diamonds,  set  in  a  circle,  close  together,  so  that  the  ring 
looked  like  a  band  of  light,  very  beautiful,  "and,"  he  said, 
"just  the  thing;  in  fact,  symbolical,"  considering  that  he 
wished  to  surround  Mercedes  with  never-ending  brightness 
and  joy. 

On  Christmas  night  our  Californians  attended  a  musicale  at 
Mrs.  Gunther's.  On  the  27th,  Mrs.  Mechlin's  grand  ball  came 
off  (and  a  grand  affair  it  was).  On  New  Year's  Day  George 
took  Clarence  on  an  extensive  tour  of  visiting. 

"We  will  have  a  regular  l  rodeo  j"  said  George,  laughing,  as 
they  were  about  to  start;  "and  wind  up  our  drive  by  coming 
home  to  make  a  long  visit  here,  at  our  corral." 

"  We  don't  want  you,  if  you  call  your  round  of  visits  a  *  ro 
deo.1  Aren't  you  ashamed  to  laugh  at  us  Californians  like  that?" 
said  Elvira,  affecting  great  resentment,  which  took  several 
kisses  from  George  to  pacify, 

Clarence  was  so  pleased  with  the  number  and  character  of 
the  acquaintances  he  made  on  New  Year's,  and  he  was  so 
warmly  invited  to  call  again,  that  he  became  convinced  that 
New  York  was  just  the  nicest  city  on  the  continent,  and  even 
thought  he  would  like  it  for  a  residence,  provided  Mercedes 
was  of  the  same  opinion. 

The  Mechlins  received  in  grand  style  on  New  Year's,  and 
finished  the  day  with  a'dance  and  collation. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  199 

Next   night    Mrs.    Gunther's   ball   took   place,    which    was 
followed  by  an  equally  grand  affair  at  the  Seldens,  on  the  6th. 
And  now  it  was  time  to  talk  about  the  trip  to  Washington. 
George  wanted  his  uncle  and  aunt  to  go  with  him. 

"  I  have  no  fears  that  the  Solicitor  General  will  give  us 
any  trouble,"  said  Mr.  L.  Mechlin;  "I  think  his  action  in  the 
Alamar  case  was  a  feeler  only  for  some  ulterior  purpose,  which 
he  has  abandoned.  But  if  I  could  see  how  I  might  help  Scott 
with  his  Texas  Pacific  Raikoad,  I  should  be  most  happy  to  go 
and  try — for  his  sake,  for  the  sake  of  the  southern  people,  and 
for  the  sake  of  you  people  at  San  Diego.  But  I  don't  see  what 
I  can  do  now.  The  failure  of  Jay  Cook  has  hurt  Scott  at  the 
very  time  when  Huntington  is  getting  stronger  and  his  influence 
in  Congress  evidently  increasing." 

"Several  persons  have  told  me  that  a  certain  railroad  man  is 
bribing  Congressmen  right  and  left  to  defeat  the  Texas  Pacific 
Railroad,"  said  George,  "and  I  believe  it." 

"Bribery  is  an  ugly  word/'  Mr.  Mechlin  replied;  "and  if 
that  is  the  way  railroad  men  are  going  to  work,  it  will  be  a  dif 
ficult  matter  for  an  honest  man  to  compete  with  them  and  keep 
his  hands  clean.  However,  I  might  be  able  to  help  Scott  in 
some  way.  I  guess  we  might  go  for  a  week  or  two.  Lizzie, 
what  do  you  think?  Would  you  like  to  go  to  Washington  for 
a  week  or  two?" 

"I  would  like  it  very  well.  I  shall  miss  these  two  young 
ladies  very  much,  and  as  the  best  way  to  cure  ennui  is  to  avoid 
it,  I  think  a  visit  to  Washington  would  be  just  the  thing  for 
me  now." 

Mercedes  clapped  her  hands  in  such  genuine  delight  at 
hearing  this,  and  Elvira  and  Clarence  were  evidently  so  pleased, 
that  Mrs.  Mechlin  added: 

"These  dear  children  seem  so  pleased  that  now  I  would 
feel  great  satisfaction  in  going,  even  if  I  did  not  expect  any 
pleasure  in  my  visit.  But  I  do.  I  have  not  been  in  Wash 
ington  for  years,  and  I  have  many  warm  friends  there  whom  I 
would  like  to  see." 


20O  THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

Thus  it  was  fixed  that  all  the  family  would  go  to  Washing 
ton  on  the  pth  or  roth,  and  remain  for  two  or  three  weeks  at 
the  gay  capital. 

Mrs.  Mechlin  now  remembered  that  the  Gunthers  and  the 
Seldens  had  mentioned  that  perhaps  they  would  accept  some 
invitations  to  several  parties  and  a  wedding,  to  come  off  in 
Washington  about  the  middle  of  January,  and  would  be  going 
down  about  the  same  time. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  Mr.  Mechlin  said,  "I'll  get  a 
special  car,  and  you  invite  the  Gunthers  and  Seldens  to  go 
with  us,  and  we  will  make  a  pleasant  party  all  together." 

"That  is  a  good  idea.  I'll  see  Mrs.  Gunther  to-day,  and  we 
will  appoint  the  day  to  start." 

And  thus  it  came  to  pass  that  on  the  pth  of  January  our 
Californians  were  traveling  in  a  palace  car  on  their  way  to 
Washington,  in  company  with  the  most  elite  of  New  York. 

Messrs.  Bob  Gunther  and  Arthur  Selden  were  of  the  party. 
They  derived  no  pleasure  in  being  so,  but  they  followed  Mer 
cedes  because  they  preferred  the  bitter  sweet  of  being  near  her, 
in  her  presence,  rather  than  to  accept  at  once  the  bitter  alone 
of  a  hopeless  separation.  They  knew  they  must  not  hope, 
but  still  they  hoped,  for  the  reason  alone  that  hope  goes  with 
man  to  the  foot  of  the  gallows. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

AT  THE  CAPITOL. 

"  There  is  no  greater  monster  in  being  than  a  very  ill  man 
of  great  parts,  he  lives  like  a  man  in  a  palsy,  with  one  side  of 
him  dead;  while  perhaps  he  enjoys  the  satisfaction  of  luxury, 
of  wealth,  of  ambition,  he  has  lost  all  the  taste  of  good-will,  of 
friendship,  of  innocence,"  says  Addison. 

If  this  can  be  said  of  a  man  whose  influence  is  of  limited 
scope,  how  much  more  horrible  the  "  palsy,"  the  moral  stagna 
tion,  of  the  man  whose  power  for  good  or  evil  extends  to  mil 
lions  of  people,  to  unlimited  time;  whose  influence  shall  be  felt, 
and  shall  be  shaping  the  destinies  of  unborn  generations,  after 
he  shall  be  only  a  ghastly  skeleton,  a  bundle  of  crumbling 
bones ! 

Would  that  the  power,  the  wisdom,  the  omniscience  of  God 
had  not  been  repudiated,  discarded,  abolished,  by  modern 
thinkers,  so  that  now  but  few  feel  any  moral  checks  or  dread 
of  responsibility;  for  if  there  is  to  be  no  final  accounting,  mo 
rality  ceases  to  be  a  factor,  there  being  no  fear  of  any  hereafter; 
and  as  a  natural  sequence,  there  is  no  remedy  left  for  the  ter 
rible  "palsy"  For  it  is  a  well  demonstrated  fact  that  sense  of 
justice,  or  pure  philanthropy,  alone,  is  but  frail  reliance.  Fatally 
has  man  elevated  his  vanity  to  be  his  deity,  with  egotism  for 
the  high  priest,  and  the  sole  aim  and  object  of  life  the  accumu 
lation  of  money,  with  no  thought  of  the  never-ending  to-morrow, 
the  awakening  on  the  limitless  shore !  no  thought  of  his  fellow- 
beings  here,  of  himself  in  the  hereafter ! 

"  It  is  a  high,  solemn,  almost  awful  thought,"  says  Carlyle, 
"for  every  individual  man,  that  his  earthly  influence,  which 
has  had  a  commencement,  will  never,  through  all  ages — were 


202  »  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

he  the  very  meanest  of  us — have  an  end !  What  is  done,  is 
done;  has  already  blended  itself  with  the  boundless,  ever-living, 
ever-working  universe,  and  will  also  work  for  good  or  for  evil, 
openly  or  secretly,  throughout  all  time.  The  life  of  every  man 
is  as  a  well-spring  of  a  stream,  whose  small  beginnings  are  indeed 
plain  to  all,  but  whose  ulterior  course  and  destination,  as  it 
winds  through  the  expanses  of  infinite  years,  only  the  Omnis 
cient  can  discern.  Will  it  mingle  with  neighboring  rivulets  as 
a  tributary,  or  receive  them  as  their  sovereign  ?  Is  it  to  be  a 
nameless  brook,  and  with  its  tiny  waters,  among  millions  of 
other  brooks  and  rills,  increase  the  current  of  some  world's 
river  ?  or  is  it  to  be  itself  a  Rhine  or  a  Danube,  whose  goings 
forth  are  to  the  uttermost  lands,  its  floods  an  everlasting  boun 
dary-line  on  the  globe  itself,  the  bulwark  and  highway  of  whole 
kingdoms  and  continents  ?  We  know  not,  only,  in  either  case, 
we  know  its  path  is  to  the  great  ocean;  its  waters,  were  they 
but  a  handful,  are  here^  and  cannot  be  annihilated  or  perma 
nently  held  back." 

But  how  many  of  the  influential  of  the  earth  think  thus  ?  If 
only  the  law-givers  could  be  made  to  reflect  more  seriously, 
more  conscientiously,  upon  the  effect  that  their  legislation  must 
have  on  the  lives,  the  destinies,  of  their  fellow-beings  forever, 
there  would  be  much  less  misery  and  heart-rending  wretched 
ness  in  this  vale  of  tears.  Now,  the  law-giver  is  a  politician, 
who  generally  thinks  more  of  his  own  political  standing  with 
other  politicians  than  of  the  interests  entrusted  to  his  care.  To 
speak  of  constituents  sounds  well,  but  who  are  the  constituents? 
The  men  who  govern  them,  who  control  votes,  those  who  guide 
the  majorities  to  the  polls;  the  politicians,  who  make  and  un 
make  each  other,  they  are  the  power — the  rest  of  the  people 
dream  that  they  are — that's  all.  And  if  these  law-givers  see  fit 
to  sell  themselves  for  money,  what  then  ?  Who  has  the  power 
to  undo  what  is  done?  Not  their  constituents,  surely.  But  the 
constituencies  will  be  the  sufferers,  and  feel  all  the  effect  of 
pernicious  legislation. 

These  were  George  Mechlin's  thoughts  as  he  sat,  with  his 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  203 

uncle,  in  the  gallery  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  listening 
to  a  debate,  a  few  days  after  their  arrival  in  Washington.  The 
attention  of  George,  however,  was  divided  between  the  debate 
and  some  papers  he  held  in  his  hands  which  a  member  of  Con 
gress  had  given  him.  These  papers  contained  several  argu 
ments,  speeches  and  petitions,  praying  Congress  to  aid  in  the 
construction  of  the  Texas  Pacific  Railroad,  thus  to  help  the 
impoverished  South  to  regain  her  strength  wasted  in  the  war. 
Among  these  papers  there  was  one  which  more  particularly 
arrested  his  attention.  It  read  as  follows : 

43d  Congress,  I  R  REPRESENTATIVES.  /  ^  Doc. 

ist  Session.       {  (  No.  68. 

CENTRAL  PACIFIC  RAILROAD  COMPANY. 
Preamble  and  Resolutions  submitted  by  MR.  LUTTRELL. 
January  12,  1874. — Referred  to  the  Committee  on  the  Pacific 
Railroad,  and  ordered  to  be  printed,  together  with  accompa 
nying  papers. 

"WHEREAS,  The  Central  Pacific  Railroad  Company  was 
incorporated  by  the  State  of  California  on  the  2yth  day  of 
June,  A.D.  1 86 1,  to  construct  a  railroad  to  the  eastern  boundary 
of  said  State;  and  whereas,  by  Acts  of  Congress  of  the  years 
1862  and  1863,  said  company  was  authorized  to  extend  said 
railroad  eastward  through  the  territory  of  the  United  States  by 
an  Act  entitled  'An  Act  to  aid  in  the  construction  of  a  railroad 
and  telegraph  line  from  the  Missouri  River  to  the  Pacific 
Ocean,'  and  received  from  the  United  States,  under  said  Act 
and  the  Acts  supplemental  thereto  and  amendatory  thereof, 
and  from  the  State  of  California  and  counties  and  corporations 
within  said  State,  from  the  State  of  Nevada,  and  from  the  Ter 
ritory  of  Utah,  the  following  amounts,  estimated  in  gold  dbin, 
to  wit: 
Land  granted  by  the  United  States  of  the  value  in  gold 

coin  of $50,288,000  oo 

Granted  and  donated  by  various  corporations  and  individ- 

.   uals  within  the  State  of  California 5,000,000  oo 

Granted  and  donated  by  various  corporations  and  indi 
viduals,  situate  within  the  State  of  Nevada 3,000,000  oa 


204  THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

Granted  and  donated  by  various  corporations  and  indi 
viduals  within  the  Territory  of  Utah $1,500,00x3  oo 

Donated  by  the  State  of  California 1,500,000  oo 

Bonds  on  which  the  State  of  California  guarantees  and 

pays  interest 12,000,000  oo 

Donated  by  the  County  of  Placer,  in  the  State  of  Cali 
fornia — Bonds 250,000  oo 

Donated  by  the  City  and  County  of  San  Francisco — In 
terest  bonds 400,000  oo 

Donated  by  the  City  and  County  of  Sacramento — Inter 
est  bonds 300,000  oo 

Bonds  by  the  United  States  Government 27,389, 120  oo 

First  mortgage  bonds  of  Central  Pacific  Railroad  Com 
pany  27,389,120  oo 

Second  mortgage  bonds  of  said  Central  Pacific  Railroad, 

legalized  by  law 15,601,741  83 

Second  mortgage  bonds,  issued  and  sold  as  above 11*787,378  17 


Total $156,825,360  oo 

And,  whereas,  the  directors  of  said  Central  Pacific  Railroad 
Company  made  contracts  with  certain  of  their  own  members  to 
construct  said  road,  known  as  the  '  Contract  and  Finance 
Company,'  for  consideration  in  lands,  money,  and  bonds,  far 
in  excess  of  the  actual  cost  of  construction;  and, 

Whereas,  said  Central  Pacific  Railroad  is,  and  has  been, 
completed  and  in  running  order  for,  in  part  and  in  whole,  over 
six  years  last  past,  and  the  profits  accruing  from  same,  amount 
ing  to  over  millions  of  dollars  per  annum,  has  been 

kept  and  appropriated  to  their  own  use,  in  violation  of  their 
duties  and  in  fraud  of  the  United  States  Government;  and, 

Whereas,  said  directors  of  the  said  Central  Pacific  Railroad 
Company  issued  to  themselves,  and  for  their  personal  profit  and 
benefit,  the  second  mortgage  bonds  of  said  Central  Pacific 
Railroad  Company,  to  the  amount  of  $27,387,120,  payable  in 
United  States  gold  coin,  with  interest  at  ten  per  cent,  per  an 
num,  and  have,  with  said  profits  accruing  to  the  Central  Pacific 
Railroad  Company,  from  the  sales  of  United  States  bonds, 
lands,  and  other  subsidies,  as  aforesaid  mentioned,  and  the 
issue  to  themselves  of  the  bonds  aforesaid,  bought,  in  order  to 


THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  205 

defraud  the  Government  of  the  United  States  out  of  the  inter 
est  now  due  from  said  Central  Pacific  Railroad  Company, 
other  roads  in  the  State  of  California,  and  expended  in  doing 
the  same,  all  the  accruing  profits  of  said  Central  Pacific  Rail 
road  for  the  benefit  of  the  directors,  failing  and  fraudulently 
refusing  to  pay  the  Government  of  the  United  States,  the  inter 
est  legally  due  on  said  mortgage  bonds;  therefore,  be  it 

Resolved,  That  a  select  committee  of  seven  members  of  this 
House  be  appointed  by  the  Speaker,  and  such  committee  be  and 
is  hereby  instructed  to  inquire  whether  or  not  any  person  con 
nected  with  the  organization  or  association  commonly  known 
as  the  'Contract  and  Finance  Company'  of  the  Central  Pa 
cific  Railroad  Company,  now  holds  any  of  the  bonds,  lands,  or 
other  subsidies  granted  said  company,  for  the  payment  of 
which,  or  the  interest  thereon,  the  United  States  is  in  any  way 
liable;  and  whether  or  not  such  holders,  if  any,  or  their  as 
signees  of  such  bonds,  lands,  or  other  subsidies,  are  holders  in 
good  faith,  and  for  a  valuable  consideration,  or  procured 
the  same  illegally,  or  by  fraud ;  *  *  *  and  to  inquire 
into  the  character  and  purpose  of  such  organization,  and  fully, 
of  all  the  transactions  of  said  Central  Pacific  Railroad  Com 
pany,  and  all  transactions  had  and  contracted  by  and  between 
the  directors  of  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  Company  and 
Charles  Crocker  &  Co. ;  and  of  all  transactions  and  contracts 
made  by  said  directors  with  the  'Contract  and  Finance  Com 
pany'  for  the  furnishing  of  material  of  every  kind  and  charac 
ter  whatever,  and  the  construction  of  the  Central  Pacific  Rail 
road  and  other  branch  roads  connected  therewith;  *  *  * 
and  to  report  the  facts  to  this  House,  together  with  such  bill  as 
may  be  necessary  to  protect  the  interests  of  the  United  States 
Government  and  the  people,  on  account  of  any  bonds,  lands 
and  subsidies  of  the  class  hereinbefore  referred  to,  and  against 
the  combinations  to  defraud  the  Government  and  the  people ; 
and  said  committee  is  hereby  authorized  to  send  for  persons 
and  papers,  and  to  report  at  any  time." 

Here  follows  a  long  recital  of  frauds  perpetrated  by  Messrs. 


206 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 


Leland  Stanford,  Huntington,  Crocker  and  Hopkins,  under 
the  name  of  "Central  Pacific  Railroad  Company"  and  "  Con 
tract  and  Finance  Company,"  etc.  Said  frauds,  Mr.  Luttrell 
says,  were  against  the  Government  and  against  the  stockholders 
of  the  Central  Pacific  Company.  A  Mr.  Brannan,  in  a  long 
complaint,  sets  forth  also  how  and  when  these  gentlemen 
cheated  the  Government  by  presenting  false  statements  of  the 
cost  of  constructing  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad,  and  in  other 
ways,  and  cheated  the  stockholders  of  said  railroad  by  issuing 
to  themselves  the  stock,  and  appropriating  other  subsidies,  which 
should  have  been  distributed  pro  rata  among  all  the  stock 
holders. 

The  entire  statement  is  a  shameful  exposure  of  disgraceful 
acts,  any  one  of  which,  were  it  to  be  perpetrated  by  a  poor 
man,  would  send  him  to  the  penitentiary. 

George  was  shocked  to  read  Mr.  Luttrell's  "Preamble  and 
Resolutions"  and  Mr.  Brannan's  "complaint"  Mr.  Lawrence 
Mechlin  waited  to  read  them  in  the  evening,  at  his  hotel. 

These  two  gentlemen  ever  since  their  arrival  had  heard 
strange  rumors  about  Congressmen  being  *  bribed  with  money  J 
and  in  other  ways  improperly  influenced  by  'a  certain  railroad 
man,'  who  was  organizing  a  powerful  lobby  to  defeat  the  Texas 
Pacific  Railroad"  In  his  endeavors  to  aid  Tom  Scott,  Mr. 
Lawrence  Mechlin  had  come  across  some  startling  facts  re 
garding  the  manipulation  of  railroad  bills,  especially  in  the 
Congressional  committees.  Still,  he  was  loth  to  believe  that 
bribery  would  be  so  openly  used.  He  was  a  man  of  strict 
probity,  slow  to  think  any  man  dishonorable.  George,  brought 
up  in  the  same  school,  felt,  also,  a  reluctance  to  believe  that 
the  Congress  of  these  United  States  could  be  packed,  bundled, 
and  labeled,  by  a  few  of  its  treacherous  members,  who  would 
sell  themselves  for  money,  in  spite  of  their  honest  colleagues. 

"  Pshaw !  the  thing  is  too  preposterous,"  he  had  said  to  his 
uncle,  who,  with  saddened  voice,  had  answered. 

"So  it  seems  to  me.  Let  us  go  to  the  Capitol  again;  I 
want  to  speak  to  some  of  the  Representatives  j  I  have  only 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  207 

seen  Senators;  I  must  talk  with  the  House  a  little."  And 
they  had  come,  and  were  now  listening  to  the  House. 

George's  business  with  the  Attorney  General  had  been 
more  satisfactory.  The  appeal  was  at  last  dismissed,  and  the 
joyful  news  had  been  telegraphed  to  Don  Mariano.  There 
was  now  no  dispute  about  the  validity  of  his  title.  The  Gov 
ernment  itself  had  said  that  the  land  belonged  to  him;  would 
the  squtters  vacate  now?  We  will  see.  Meantime,  the  remit- 
titur  had  to  be  sent  to  the  court  below,  and  it  was  expected 
that  Congress  would  soon  make  an  appropriation  to  defray  ex 
penses  of  surveying  lands  in  California.  George  wrote  to  Don 
Mariano  not  to  engage  any  surveyor  to  survey  his  rancho,  as 
there  would  be  an  appropriation  made  for  lands  to  be  surveyed 
by  the  Government. 

Elvira  and  Mercedes  were  made  very  happy  on  hearing  that 
the  appeal  was  dismissed.  They  did  not  well  understand 
what  it  all  meant;  but  as  they  were  told  that  now  the  Govern 
ment  of  the  United  States  had  said  that  the  rancho  belonged  to 
their  father,  they  naturally  concluded  that  the  squatters  would 
go  away,  and  there  would  no  longer  be  any  trouble  about  the 
destruction  of  their  cattle,  and  their  father  not  be  so  worried 
and  unhappy. 

Thus,  life  seemed  very  sweet  to  those  two  innocents,  and 
they  enjoyed  their  visit  to  Washington  to  the  fullest  extent. 
The  Gunthers  and  Seldens  had  stopped  at  the  same  hotel  with 
the  Mechlins,  and  the  three  families  were  constantly  together. 
Their  parlors  in  their  evenings  "at  home"  were  filled  with  a 
crowd  of  distinguished  visitors ;  other  evenings  were  given  to 
parties  and  receptions.  One  cloud  only  cast  a  shadow  on 
Mercedes'  brilliant  surroundings,  and  this  was  the  obvious 
misery  she  saw  in  Arthur  Selden's  dejected  countenance,  and 
a  certain  dread  she  felt  at  the  silent  coldness  of  Robert  Gun- 
ther.  His  eyes  seemed  to  her  darker  than  they  used  to  be,  but 
perhaps  they  seemed  so  because  he  was  so  much  paler.  But 
what  could  she  do  ?  she  asked  herself,  and  wished  very  much 
that  these  two  young  gentlemen  had  remained  in  New  York, 


208  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

for,  surely,  they  couldn't  expect  that  she  would  give  up  Clar 
ence  !  No,  indeed.  Not  for  fifty  thousand  Gunthers,  or  two 
million  Seldens. 

There  were  times  when  the  coldness  of  these  two  young  gen 
tlemen  was  very  marked,  and,  amiable  as  she  was,  she  felt  it. 
But  her  Clarence  was  always  near,  and  his  superb  eyes  were 
watching,  ready  to  come  to  her  at  the  slightest  indication.  It 
was  so  sweet  to  be  so  quickly  understood  and  so  promptly 
obeyed  by  him. 

There  had  been  a  brilliant  ball  at  one  of  the  legations,  and 
on  the  following  morning  the  Seldens  and  Gunthers  were  dis 
cussing  the  event  in  Mrs.  Mechlin's  parlor. 

"You  made  two  new  conquests  last  night,"  said  the  eldest 
Miss  Selden  to  Mercedes.  "Those  two  attaches  are  now  your 
new  slaves.  They  are  awfully  in  love.  I  felt  pity  for  them,  to 
see  them  so  completely  captivated.  You  ought  to  be  proud." 

"  I  don't  think  they  are  in  love,  but,  admitting  it  is  so,  why 
should  I  be  proud?  I  should  be  annoyed,  that's  all,"  replied 
Mercedes. 

"  Do  you  expect  us  to  believe  that?"  Miss  Selden  asked. 

"You  may  believe  it,  for  it  is  the  truth." 

"You  are  a  strange  girl,  then." 

"Why  so?  Why  should  I  wish  men  to  fall  in  love  with  me, 
when  I  cannot  return  their  love?"  said  Mercedes,  evidently 
vexed 

"You  are  the  first  girl  I  ever  saw  that  did  not  want  to  have 
admirers;  yes,  loads  of  them." 

"Admirers  and  friends,  yes  ;  but  you  spoke  of  those  young 
men  being  in  love.  Now,  if  I  thought  so,  I  would  be  very 
sorry,  and,  as  I  do  not  wish  to  be  unhappy,  I  hope  you  are 
mistaken." 

The  Misses  Selden  laughed  incredulously. 

"In  my  opinion,  no  kind-hearted  girl  ought  to  desire  to  be 
loved  except  by  the  one  she  loves.  Else,  she  must  be  a  very  heart 
less  creature,  who  enjoys  the  miseries  of  others,"  added  she, 
earnestly.  "Now,  I  want  you  to  know,  I  am  not  cruel;  I  am 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  209 

not  heartless ;  so  I  do  not  wish  any  man  (but  one)  to  be  in 
love  with  me." 

"You  are  right,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Gunther  interposed.  "But 
the  trouble  is,  you  are  too  pretty,  too  sweet,  to  be  let  alone ; 
you  can't  help  being  loved." 

"Then  I  am  unlucky,  that's  all,"  she  said,  with  trembling 
lips,  "  and  the  sooner  I  go  home,  the  better  it  will  be  for  mu 
tual  comfort." 

Robert  Gunther  was  talking  with  Elvira,  but  he  had  not  lost 
one  word  of  this  conversation.  In  the  evening  they  went 
to  a  Presidential  reception.  It  happened  that  he  was  near 
Mercedes  when  Elvira  proposed  to  go  and  see  the  flowers  in 
the  conservatory;  he  offered  her  his  arm,  and  they  followed 
Elvira.  He  had  spoken  very  few  words  to  her  since  they  re 
turned  from  Newport,  but  had  watched  her  and  feasted  his 
eyes  on  her  loveliness.  Now,  after  walking  in  silence  for  some 
time,  he  said: 

"It  is  a  sad  sort  of  consolation  to  know  that  you  regret  in 
spiring  hopeless  love.  I  heard  your  conversation  with  the 
Misses  Selden  this  morning.  I  thank  you  for  not  enjoying 
my  misery." 

"Oh!  how  could  I  do  that?  I  wish  I  could  make  you 
happy;  please  forgive  me  if  I  have  ever  caused  you  pain?"  said 
she  in  the  sweetest  of  pleading  tones.  He  looked  at  her  sweet 
face,  turned  toward  his,  and  his  love  for  her  seemed  to  rush 
upon  him  like  an  overwhelming  wave — like  a  hot  flame  rising 
to  his  brain. 

"Oh!  Mercedes,  it  is  frightful  how  much  I  love  you!  What 
shall  I  do  to  conquer  this  unfortunate  infatuation?" 

"Forget  me;  I  shall  soon  be  away — far  away." 

"  Oh !  darling,  I  would  rather  suffer  seeing  you,  than  to  have 
your  sweet  presence  withdrawn  from  my  sight.  You  see  my 
unfortunate  situation?  I  vow  it  is  awful  to  love  so  hopelessly! 
But  I  shall  never  talk  to  you  of  my  love  again.  I  see  I  pain 
you,"  he  added,  seeing  that  she  trembled  and  looked  pained. 
"  Forgive  me,  for  I  am  very  wretched.  My  life  will  now  be  a 
blank." 


210  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"I  wish  you  could  feel  for  me,  as  you  do  toward  Elvira. 
How  I  envy  her  your  friendship,"  she  said,  in  very  low  tones. 

"Do  you,  truly?" 

"Indeed  I  do.     I  would  be  so  happy." 

"I  shall  try.     But  how  can  I,  loving  you  so  ardently?" 

"As  a  proof  of  your  love,  try  to  be  my  friend — only  a 
friend." 

"You  ask  of  my  love  a  suicide — to  kill  itself.  Be  it  so.  1 
shall  try,"  said  he  with  a  sad  smile.  "The  request  is  rather 
novel,  but  perhaps  it  might  be  done.  I  doubt  it.  I  suppose 
you  will  be  my  friend  then?" 

"I  am  that  now — most  sincerely,"  said  she,  earnestly. 

On  leaving  the  conservatory,  they  saw  Clarence  coming  to 
meet  them.  He  joined  Elvira  and  walked  by  her  side. 

"Thanks,  Mr.  Darrell.  I  am  glad  you  have  good  sense," 
said  Gunther,  addressing  the  back  and  broad  shoulders  of 
Clarence  from  the  distance.  Mercedes  laughed  and  felt  her 
self  regaining  her  composure. 

They  had  now  been  in  Washington  ten  days,  and  the  ladies 
of  the  party  had  only  made  one  very  hurried  visit  to  the  Capi 
tol.  This  day  Mrs.  Mechlin  had  set  apart  "  to  devote  to  Con 
gress,"  she  said,  and  it  was  arranged  that  they  would  go  in  the 
morning,  would  lunch  at  the  Capitol,  and  remain  part  of 
the  afternoon.  A  debate  on  the  Texas  Pacific  Bill  was  expected 
that  day,  and  the  Mechlins,  as  well  as  Clarence  and  Mercedes, 
wished  to  hear  it.  The  President  of  the  Senate  put  his  rooms 
at  the  service  of  Mrs.  Mechlin  and  friends.  Thus  the  ladies 
had  a  delightful  time,  taking  a  recess  in  the  President's  parlor 
when  they  liked,  or  strolling  through  the  corridors,  or  sitting  in 
the  galleries. 

After  luncheon,  the  party,  walking  toward  the  public  recep 
tion  room,  were  met  by  five  or  six  old  men  with  very  white 
beards.  Two  of  them  walked  slowly  as  if  weakened  by  sick 
ness,  one  walked  on  crutches,  and  one  had  lost  an  arm,  his 
coat-sleeve  being  pinned  to  his  breast.  Mr.  Mechlin  stopped 
to  shake  hands  with  them,  saying  to  his  wife  to  go  on,  that  he 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  211 

wished  to  speak  with  these  gentlemen.  On  rejoining  the  party, 
Mr.  Mechlin  was  asked  by  Miss  Gunther  where  these  venera 
ble  old  gentlemen  came  from. 

"They  looked  like  a  little  troop  of  patriarchs,"  Miss  Selden 
added.  "What  can  they  want  at  the  Capitol?" 

"  They  want  bread,"  Mr.  Mechlin  replied.  "  Those  men 
should  be  pensioned  by  our  Government,  but  it  is  not  done 
because  Congress  has  not  seen  fit  to  do  it.  The  three  oldest 
of  those  men  are  veterans  of  the  Mexican  War.  For  twenty- 
five  years  they  have  been  asking  the  Government  to  grant  them 
a  pension,  a  little  pittance  to  help  them  along  in  their  old  age, 
but  it  is  not  done.  Year  after  year  the  same  prayers  and 
remonstrances  are  repeated  in  vain.  Congress  well  knows  how 
valuable  were  the  services  of  those  who  went  to  Mexico  to  con 
quer  a  vast  domain;  but,  now  we  have  the  domain,  we  don't 
care  to  be  grateful  or  just.  It  would  perhaps  be  a  matter  of 
perfect  indifference  to  half  of  our  Congress  should  they  hear 
that  all  those  poor  veterans  died  of  starvation." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LOOKING  AT  THE  RECEDING  DOME. 

There  was  one  thing  that  the  gay  New  Yorkers,  under  Mrs. 
Mechlin's  chaperoning,  had  to  do  before  they  left  the  capital- 
They  must  make  an  excursion  across  the  Potomac  to  Arling 
ton,  and  visit  the  tomb  of  Washington.  Patriotism,  she  said, 
imposed  this  duty  upon  them,  which  must  be  fulfilled  with 
due  reverence. 

"Therefore,"  Mrs.  Mechlin  added,  "they  would  have  a 
picnic  under  the  glorious  trees  in  the  Arlington  grounds. " 

"  Let  our  libations  be  on  that  sacred  spot,"  said  George;  "we 
will  pour  wine  on  the  grave  of  Washington — that  is,  we  will  go 
close  to  it  and  drink  it." 

"You  mean  that  we  will  drink  the  wine  and  rub  the  bottle 
devoutly  upon  the  monument,  as  the  Irish  woman  did  when 
she  cured  her  rheumatism,"  Bob  Gunther  added. 

"It  is  awful  how  unpatriotic  and  irreverent  are  the  young 
men  nowadays,"  Miss  Gunther  said. 

"Yes;  it  makes  me  weep,"  added  Arthur  Selden,  blinking. 

There  would  be  a  day  or  two  before  the  picnic,  and  Mer 
cedes  told  George  she  wanted  to  go  to  the  dome  of  the  Capitol, 
and  see  Washington  City  from  that  elevated  place. 

"The  little  puss  shall  have  her  wish,"  George  said,  and  on 
the  following  day  all  the  party  drove  again  to  the  Capitol,  and 
walked  through  labyrinths  of  dark  corridors  leading  into  com 
mittee  rooms  or  may-be  into  solemn  judicial  halls,  where  jus 
tice  sat  holding  the  scales  in  terrific  silence.  Emerging  from 
the  cool,  musty  air  of  the  lower  halls,  they  again  visited  the 
upper  rooms  and  galleries,  which  Elvira  and  Mercedes  liked 
better  than  on  their  former  visits.  Now  all  ascended  to  the 


THE   SQUATTER  AND   THE   DON.  213 

highest  point  they  could  go,  and  their  exertions  were  amply 
rewarded  by  the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  beautiful  panorama  at 
their  feet.  Washington  City  has  been  viewed  and  reviewed, 
and  too  minutely  described  to  be  considered  any  longer  in 
teresting  to  Eastern  people,  but  to  our  Californians  the  view 
of  that  city  of  prcud  and  symmetric  proportions,  with  its  ra 
diating  avenues  lost  in  diminishing  distances,  its  little  trian 
gular  parks  and  haughty  edifices,  all  making  a  picturesque  en 
semble,  was  most  pleasing  and  startling. 

With  Clarence  by  her  side,  Mercedes  looked  carefully  at 
the  city  that  like  a  magnificent  picture  lay  there  beneath 
them.  She  wished  to  carry  it  photographed  in  her  memory. 

The  picnic  to  Arlington  was  much  enjoyed  by  all.  Mer 
cedes  would  have  preferred  to  walk  over  the  grounds  of  Mount 
Vernon  with  Clarence  alone,  for  her  love  was  of  that  pure 
character  which  longs  to  associate  the  cherished  object  with 
every  thought  and  feeling  having  its  source  in  our  highest 
faculties.  She  thought  Mount  Vernon  ought  to  be  visited  rev 
erently,  and  she  knew  Clarence  would  not  laugh  at  her  for 
thinking  so.  But,  alas!  those  other  young  gentlemen  had  no 
such  thoughts.  They  were  in  high  glee,  determined  to  have  fun, 
and  enjoy  it;  and  though  Mercedes  and  Miss  Gunther  told 
them  they  were  behaving  like  vandals,  such  rebukes  only  in 
creased  their  merriment,  which  continued  even  after  they  re- 
crossed  the  Potomac. 

Mr.  Mechlin's  party  had  at  last  to  tear  itself  away  from 
Washington,  and  hurry  to  New  York,  for  the  "charity  ball" 
was  to  come  off  in  a  few  days ;  then  the  Liederkranz  and  the 
Purim  balls  would  follow — all  in  the  month  of  February — and 
Mrs.  Mechlin  wished  that  Elvira  and  Mercedes  should  see 
them  all.  They  had  been  at  masked  balls  in -Washington  at 
the  house  of  a  Senator  and  of  a  foreign  minister,  but  Mrs. 
Mechlin  said  that  no  masked  balls  in  America  could  or  did 
equal  those  given  in  New  York  at  the  Academy  of  Music, 
consequently  it  became  an  absolute  necessity  that  these  two 
young  ladies  should  see  those  grand  affairs.  Moreover,  she 


214  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

was  one  of  the  matrons  of  the  charity  ball,  and  her  presence 
was  indispensable  to  attend  to  their  management. 

A  special  car  was  again  in  readiness,  and  the  Mechlin  party 
occupied  it  one  morning  at  eight  o'clock.  The  party  was  now 
increased  by  the  addition  of  six  ladies  and  eight  gentlemen 
from  Washington,  who  were  going  to  attend  the  charity  ball 
and  Liederkranz.  The  train  was  in  motion,  going  out  of  the 
city  limits,  accelerating  its  speed  as  it  plunged  into  the  woods 
beyond.  George  and  Clarence  sat  at  one  end  of  the  car,  sepa 
rate  from  the  company,  looking  at  the  Capitol,  as  it  seemed  to 
retreat,  flying  with  receding  celerity.  The  woods  were  beginning 
to  intercept  its  view  at  times — the  dome  would  disappear  and 
re-appear  again  and  again  above  the  surrounding  country. 

Mr.  Mechlin  joined  the  two  young  men,  saying  to  them,  as 
he  turned  the  seat  in  front,  and  sat  facing  them  :  "You  are 
watching  the  receding  Capitol.  I  was  doing  the  same.  I 
wonder  whether  your  thoughts  were  like  mine  in  looking  at 
that  proud  edifice?" 

"I  think  my  thoughts  were  about  the  same  subject,  uncle. 
What  were  your  thoughts,  Darrell  ?  Tell  us,"  George  said. 

"I  was  thinking  of  your  father  and  of  Don  Mariano— think 
ing  that  under  that  white  shining  dome  their  fate  would  be 
decided  perhaps,  as  they  both  have  embarked  so  hopefully  in 
the  boat  of  the  Texas  Pacific  Railroad." 

George  and  his  uncle  looked  at  each  other  as  if  saying,  "We 
all  were  of  the  same  mind,  surely." 

Mr.  Lawrence  Mechlin  said:  "We  certainly  were  thinking 
nearly  alike,  Mr.  Darrell,  with  this  difference,  may-be,  that  I 
don't  feel  as  hopeful  as  I  did  a  few  weeks  ago,  when  you  and  I 
talked  about  the  fair  chances  of  the  Texas  Pacific  as  we  looked 
at  that  same  white  dome  when  we  were  coming  down.  Now  I 
am  very  fearful  that  the  sad  condition  of  the  impoverished 
South  is  not  going  to  have  the  weight  which  it  deserves  in  the 
minds  of  this  Congress.  I  talked  with  many  of  our  law-givers 
about  the  matter,  and  all  seemed  not  to  realize  the  import 
ance,  the  policy,  the  humanity  of  helping  the  South,  and  of 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  215 

giving  to  the  Pacific  Coast  a  competing  railway,  to  get  Califor 
nia  out  of  the  clutches  of  a  grasping  monopoly.  All  agree  that 
it  ought  to  be  done,  but  it  looks  as  if  few  put  their  hearts  into 
the  matter." 

"Their  hearts  are  in  their  pockets,  uncle,  and  I  am  afraid 
that  after  all  our  reluctance  to  believe  that  our  Congressmen 
can  be  improperly  influenced,  we  will  have  to  submit — with 
shame  and  sorrow — and  accept  the  fact  that  bribery  has  been 
at  work,  successfully.  The  chief  of  the  lobby  is  king." 

"  Not  yet — not  yet.  It  is  a  frightful  thought.  Let  us  not 
accept  it  yet.  Let  us  think  it  is  an  error,  but  not  knavery.  I 
am  coming  down  again,  I  think,  before  this  session  is  over. 
I  want  to  see  more  before  I  am  convinced.  I  have  my  fears 
and  my  doubts,  but  I  still  hope — must  hope — that  our  Con 
gress  has  many  honest  men." 

"You  can  hope — but  it  will  be  in  vain,"  George  said;  "the 
money  of  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  will  be  too  much  for 
Colonel  Scott." 

"Don't  be  so  desponding,  boy." 

"I  can't  have  any  hope  in  this  Congress.  There  never  can 
be  any  better  arguments  in  favor  of  the  Texas  Pacific  than  are 
now  plain  to  everybody.  So,  then,  if  in  the  face  of  all  these 
powerful  considerations  Congress  turns  it  back  and  will  not 
hear  the  wail  of  the  prostrate  South,  or  the  impassionate  ap 
peals  of  California,  now,  now,  when  there  is  not  one  solitary 
reason  under  heaven  why  such  appeals  and  entreaties  should 
be  disregarded,  is  there  any  ground  to  expect  any  better  in  the 
uncertain  future?  Certainly  not.  But  still,  I  do  not  say  that 
we  should  abandon  all  hope.  For  the  sake  of  my  father,  who 
has  trusted  so  much  in  the  Texas  Pacific,  I  am  glad  you  will 
do  all  you  can  to  help  Colonel  Scott." 

"I  certainly  shall,"  Mr.  Mechlin  replied.  Then,  after  a 
few  minutes  of  silence,  he  said:  "If  our  legislators  could  only 
be  induced  to  adopt  Herbert  Spencer's  view  of  the  duties  of 
law-givers*  there  would  be  far  less  misery  in  the  United  States. 
If  they  could  but  stop  to  see  how  clearly  it  stands  to  reason 


2l6  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

that  'legislative  deductions  must  be  based  upon  fundamental 
morality;'  that  'the  inferences  of  political  economy  are  true,  only 
because  they  are  discoveries  by  a  roundabout  process  of  what 
the  moral  law  commands.'1  It  is  an  unfortunate  mistake  that  the 
words  '•moral law'  are  generally  understood  to  apply  practically 
only  to  private  conduct ;  to  a  man's  fidelity  to  his  marriage 
vows;  to  his  religious  belief;  this  we  learn  at  school.  But 
these  words  are  only  loosely  applied  (if  at  all)  to  a  man's  ac 
tions  as  a  legislator.  I  never  heard  in  election  times  that  any 
one  expects  our  law-givers  to  base  their  legislation  upon  fun 
damental  morality,  and  regard  expediency  as  a  secondary  con 
sideration.  Congressmen  know  that  they  are  expected  to 
watch  the  material  interests  of  their  States  or  counties,  but 
they  do  not  feel  any  moral  responsibility  to  see  that  other  con 
stituencies  do  not  suffer  injustice.  Thus,  if  the  Congressmen 
of  one  State  choose  to  betray  the  rights  of  their  constituencies, 
other  Congressmen  generally  look  on  indifferently,  or,  per 
haps,  amused — and  do  not  interfere  any  more  than  they 
would  in  the  domestic  affairs  of  perfect  strangers.  They  do 
not  seem  to  perceive  that  on  the  very  instant  in  which  they  see 
that  a  community,  or  an  individual,  is  being  wronged  by  the 
neglect  or  design  of  their  own  representatives,  that  then  any 
other  Congressman  should  come  forward  to  protect  the  be 
trayed  community  or  defenseless  citizen.  This  is  clearly  their 
duty.  But  it  seems  to  be  ignored  by  tacit  consent.  All  Con 
gressmen  are  ready  to  offer  objections  to  every  conceivable 
measure.  To  jump  up  and  shout  against  anything,  seems 
to  be  thought  the  proof  of  a  man  being  a  good  legislator. 
Combativeness  is  the  one  faculty  ever  in  use  to  offer  obstruc 
tions,  and  thus  necessary  and  useful  legislation  is  foolishly  re 
tarded,  and  untold  misery  is  brought  upon  innocent  citizens. 
All  this  is  a  mistake.  Because  the  ^fundamental  law  of  mo 
rality'  is  not  understood.  Herbert  Spencer  says:  'Now,  this 
that  we  call  moral  law  is  simply  a  statement  of  the  conditions 
of  beneficial  action.  Originating  in  the  primary  necessities 
of  things,  it  is  the  development  of  these  into  a  series  of  limita- 


fu, 


TIN1 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  217 

tions  within  which  all  conduct  conducive  to  the  greatest  hap 
piness  must  be  confined.  To  overstep  such  limitations  is  to 
disregard  these  necessities  of  things,  to  fight  against  the  con 
stitution  of  nature/  Mr.  Spencer  applies  this  axiom  to  the 
happiness  of  individuals,  as  well  as  of  entire  communities.  If 
the  principles  of  fundamental  morality  were  better  understood 
and  more  conscientiously  respected,  railroad  manipulators 
would  find  it  impossible  to  organize  a  lobby  to  defeat  all  laws 
intended  to  aid  the  Texas  Pacific.  But  I  repeat,  in  spite  of  all 
discouragement,  I  will  use  my  best  efforts  to  help  the  Texas 
Pacific,  as  I  firmly  believe  every  honest  man  in  these  United 
States  ought  to  do,  even  when  not  directly  interested." 

The  journey  to  New  York  was  accomplished  safely  by  our 
party,  and  in  good  time  for  the  charity  ball.  Mrs.  Mechlin 
and  Mrs.  Gunther  being  in  the  list  of  its  distinguished  matrons, 
busied  themselves  about  that  grand  affair  from  the  day  after 
their  return  until  its  successful  finale,  which  was  also  a  success 
pecuniarily. 

To  the  charity  ball  follow  the  Liederkranz  and  the  Purim. 

"Are  you  to  go  masked,  George?"  Mrs.  Mechlin  asked,  as 
they  were  discussing  the  coming  ball  with  Miss  Gunther. 

"No,  I  think  not.  I  think  the  best  plan  is  to  wear  a 
domino  and  mask,  as  we  go  in  with  you  ladies,  so  that  you 
may  not  be  recognized.  Then  after  awhile  we  will  leave  you 
and  go  out  into  the  vestibule  and  take  off  our  masks  and  return 
unmasked." 

"But  why  not  keep  masked?"  Clarence  asked. 

"Because  we  will  have  no  fun  at  all  with  masks  on.  The 
ladies  not  knowing  who  we  are  will  have  nothing  to  say  to 
us.  But  if  they  see  who  we  are,  then  they'll  come  and  talk 
saucily,  thinking  we  will  not  recognize  them.  We  will,  though, 
and  then  the  fun  begins." 

"Nobody  knows  at  home  what  my  domino  is  to  look  like, 
but  I  think  Bob  will  recognize  my  voice,  and  know  who  we  all 
are,  as  he  knows  I  am  going  with  you,"  MisS  Gunther  said. 

"But  is  he  not  to  be  of  our  party?"  Mrs.  Mechlin  asked. 


2l8  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"No ;  he  is  going  to  escort  Miss  Selden.  My  brother  Charles 
will  be  my  escort.  He  will  be  in  our  secret,  of  course.  How 
I  wish  we  could  mystify  Bob." 

"But  we  can't,  if  we  speak  to  him,  as  he  will  recognize 
our  voices,  Mercedes  and  mine,  by  our  accent  immediately," 
Elvira  said. 

"You  can  mimic  the  German  way  of  talking  English,  and 
Mercedes  can  talk  half  French  and  half  English,  with  an  Irish 
brogue,"  George  suggested. 

"She  talks  Irish  brogue  to  perfection,"  Elvira  said. 

"But  I'll  have  to  practice  before  I  would  speak  to  him," 
said  Mercedes. 

"Practice  every  day — you  have  six  days  yet,"  Mrs.  Mechlin 
said. 

"Do,  Miss  Mercedes.  I  would  like  you  to  fool  Bob,"  Miss 
Gunther  said. 

"But  you  must  make  your  voice  sound  guttural.  Your 
voice  is  naturally  very  musical.  You  must  disguise  it,"  George 
suggested. 

Mercedes  followed  his  suggestion,  and  by  carefully  imitating 
Mrs.  Mechlin's  French  maid  (who  spoke  very  broken  English 
and  stammered  a  good  deal),  she  passed  herself  off  for  a  stam 
mering  French  girl,  who  was  very  talkative,  in  spite  of  the  dif 
ficulty  in  her  speech — maintaining  her  role  so  well  that  neither 
Bob  nor  Arthur  recognized  her  until  she  took  off  her  mask. 
Then  the  faces  of  the  two  young  men  were  a  study.  They 
both  had  paid  most  ardent  compliments  to  her  feet  and 
hands,  and  had  earnestly  begged  for  the  privilege  of  calling 
upon  her,  which  she  granted,  promising  to  give  the  number  of 
her  house  when  she  unmasked.  She  had  danced  with  both 
several  times,  and  had  asked  them  to  present  George  and 
Clarence  to  her.  Both  of  whom  also  asked  her  to  dance,  and 
while  dancing  had  a  good  laugh  at  the  expense  of  the  two  de 
luded  ones. 

When  she  unmasked,  Selden  left  the  ball  in  the  midst  of 
the  peals  of  laughter  from  those  who  understood  the  joke. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  2 19 

Bob  stood  his  ground,  with  the  crimson  blush  up  to  his  ears 
and  eyebrows. 

"The  fact  of  the  matter  is,  that  you  will  attract  me 
always,  no  matter  under  what  disguise,"  he  whispered  to 
Mercedes. 

"Pas  si  bete"  she  answered,  stammering  fearfully,  and  look 
ing  the  prettier  for  it. 

The  Liederkranz  and  Purim  balls  were  highly  enjoyed 
also,  but  Mercedes,  though  in  domino,  assumed  no  role.  She 
was  very  amiable  to  Bob  and  Arthur,  to  heal  the  wound  of 
their  lacerated  vanity. 

The  winter  had  now  passed,  and  spring  came — bringing  to 
our  Californians  thoughts  of  returning  home. 

The  sun  was  shining  brightly  on  Madison  Square — there 
had  been  a  heavy  shower  that  morning,  in  the  early  March — 
which  had  washed  the  snow  off  the  pavements  into  the  sew 
ers,  leaving  the  streets  clean.  Children  were  out  with  their 
nurses  in  the  square,  among  the  trees,  which  were  trying  hard 
to  bud  out,  but  as  yet  succeeded  very  poorly.  Still,  there  were 
some  little  birds  of  sanguine  temperament,  chirping  like  good 
optimists  about  the  ungainly,  denuded  branches,  calculating 
philosophically  on  coming  green  leaves,  though  vegetation  was 
slow  to  awake  from  its  winter  sleep. 

Clarence,  from  his  window  at  the  hotel,  saw  that  the  day  was 
bright,  and  hastened,  in  an  open  carriage,  to  take  Elvira  and 
Mercedes  out  for  a  drive  in  the  park.  They  first  went  down 
for  George,  who  had  not  yet  left  the  bank. 

"Did  you  get  letters  from  home  to-day?"  Elvira  asked. 

"Yes;  and  among  them  a  long  one  from  Don  Mariano," 
Clarence  replied. 
-   "What  did  he  say?    Any  good  news  for  poor  papa?" 

"He  has  just  made  twenty  thousand  dollars,  any  way,  in 
spite  of  squatters.  And  he  will  make  sixty  thousand  dollars 
more  if  he  will  do  what  I  asked  him  in  my  letter  to-day," 
Clarence  said. 

"How  did   he   make   twenty   thousand   dollars?"   George 


220  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

asked,  with  a  brightened  look,  which  was  reflected  in  the 
beautiful  eyes  of  the  sisters. 

"By  sending  five  hundred  steers  to  Fred  Haverly." 

"Are  five  hundred  steers  worth  that  much?"  George  asked, 
surprised. 

"Yes — at  forty  dollars  per  head — which  for  large  cattle  is 
not  too  high  a  price.  That  is  what  Fred  has  been  paying  for 
cattle  weighing  in  the  neighborhood  of  four  hundred  pounds." 

"The  best  thing  Don  Mariano  can  do  is  to  sell  you  all  his 
cattle,  even  at  half  of  this  price,"  George  said. 

"That  is  what  I  have  been  writing  to  him  to-day.  As  I 
have  to  buy  cattle  for  the  mines,  and  I  am  willing  to  pay  him 
a  good  price,  he  ought  to  sell  them  all  to  me,  and  when  he  gets 
his  rancho  clear  of  trespassers  then  buy  finer  breeds  and  re 
stock  the  rancho." 

"A  most  excellent  idea,"  George  said. 

Robert  Gunther  passed  by,  driving  his  four-in-hand  at  a 
furious  speed,  with  a  very  handsome  girl  sitting  by  his  side. 
He  bowed  as  he  passed. 

Mercedes  laughed,  saying  he  looked  "  sheepish,"  and  though 
he  did  not  hear  what  she  said,  he  blushed  to  the  roots  of  his 
hair,  and  ran  against  a  heavy  carriage  which  slowly  rolled 
ahead  of  him,  loaded  with  four  elderly  ladies,  who  screamed 
terrified.  This  mishap  only  increased  Bob's  confusion,  forc 
ing  him  to  check  his  speed. 

"  Do  you  want  our  assistance?"  George  asked,  laughing. 

"  No,  thanks.  If  people  did  not  come  to  drive  their  funerals 
through  the  park,  no  one  would  run  over  them,"  Bob  said. 

"And  you  want  to  kill  them,  so  as  not  to  have  funerals  with 
out  dead  bodies?"  Mercedes  asked. 

"Be  merciful !  Remember  your  name  is  Mercedes,"  said 
poor,  embarrassed  Bob. 

Whereupon  Mercedes  wafted  a  kiss  to  him,  saying :  "  That 
goes  as  a  peace  offering." 

"Ah,  yes;  I  understand,"  said  he,  following  her  with  his 
eyes.  "A  kiss  to  the  empty  air  is  all  you  will  ever  give  me." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PERPLEXITIES  AT  ALAMAR. 

It  has  generally  been  the  custom  of  biographers  to  treat  their 
subject  after  he  is  resting  peacefully  in  his  grave,  indifferent  to 
the  world's  opinion.  Seldom  has  a  man  "  been  written  "  (in  a 
biography)  until  he  is  past  knowing  what  is  said  of  him  in  print. 
Epitaphs  are  non-committal,  or  laudatory  only,  and  too  brief; 
they  are  solely  a  charitable  or  affectionate  tribute  to  the  dead, 
intended  to  please  the  living.  Biographies — it  is  to  be  sup 
posed — are  intended,  or  should  be,  admonitory;  to  teach  men 
by  the  example  of  the  one  held  up  to  view: — be  this  an  example 
to  be  followed  or  to  be  avoided.  But  if  no  offense  be  intended 
by  the  biographer,  why  wait  until  a  man  is  forever  more  beyond 
hearing  what  is  said  of  him,  before  his  fellows  are  told  in  what 
and  how  he  surpassed  them  so  much  as  to  be  considered  worthy 
of  special  notice?  If  he  ought  to  be  reproved,  let  him  know 
it ;  and  if  we  must  worship  him  as  a  hero,  let  him  know  it  also. 
Only  such  an  irascible  man — for  instance — as  Dr.  Johnson 
was,  could  have  received  the  homage  of  admiration  and  rever 
ence  such  as  BoswelPs,  so  impatiently,  almost  ungratefully.  It 
is  more  natural  for  man  to  receive  incense  at  least  passively, 
and  endeavor  to  deserve  it.  Biographies,  therefore,  ought  to  be 
intended,  not  to  mislead  readers,  but  to  instruct  them.  From 
this  point  of  view,  then,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  flattering 
things  of  Mr.  Darrell,  and  more  difficult  yet  to  say  them  of  the 
other  squatters  of  Alamar,  in  a  biographical  sketch. 

Mr.  Darrell  did  not  receive  the  news  of  the  appeal  being  dis 
missed  as  Mrs.  Darrell  and  Clarence  had  hoped.  Mr.  Darrell 
was  evidently  out  of  humor  with  the  executive  branch  of  the 
Government — with  the  Attorney  General — and  he  discussed 


222  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

the  matter  with  himself  in  many  an  animated  soliloquy.  High 
as  his  opinion  of  Congress  was  and  had  always  been,  he,  in  his 
ill  humor,  even  went  so  far  as  to  say — to  himself — that  this 
much  respected  body  of  legislators  had  been  entirely  too  len 
ient  with  the  conquered  natives.  Congress  ought  to  have  con 
fiscated  all  their  lands  and  "  only  allowed  them  one  hundred 
and  sixty  acres  each"  The  idea  that  they  (the  conquered) 
should  be  better  off  than  the  Americans !  They  should  have 
been  put  on  an  equality  with  other  settlers,  and  much  honor  to 
them,  too,  would  have  been  thereby,  for  why  should  these  infe 
rior  people  be  more  considered  than  the  Americans  ? 

"  Inferior  ?  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  It  is  enough  to 
see  one  of  those  Alamar  ladies  to  learn  that  they  are  inferior  to 
nobody,"  said  Mrs.  Darrell,  happening  to  overhear  the  last 
words  of  her  lord's  soliloquy.  "  Neither  are  the  Californians 
considered  better  than  Americans  because  the  Government  did 
not  take  all  their  lands  from  them.  I  declare,  William,  you 
have  gone  back  to  your  old  unfortunate  ideas  which  brought  so 
many  troubles  to  us  in  Napa  and  Sonoma.  You  forget  those 
troubles,  and  you  are  ready  to  bring  them  back  again." 

"No,  I  ain't;  but  I  always  will  maintain  that  the  Spanish 
Californians  should  not  have  a  right  to  any  more  land  than 
Americans." 

"And  they  have  not.  The  Government  does  not  give  them 
any  more  land;  all  they  ask  and  expect  is  that  the  Government 
may  not  take  away  what  they  had.  You  see  this  perfectly  well, 
and  you  know  that  every  time  you  have  disregarded  this  truth, 
we  have  suffered.  This  time  it  might  lead  to  worse  suffering, 
since  it  is  Clarence  that  might  be  made  very  miserable;  and  if 
he  is,  so  must  I.  Then  good-by  happiness  for  me." 

"Why  should  Clarence  be  made  miserable?" 

"  Because  he  is  devotedly  attached  to  Miss  Mercedes;  and 
if  you  are  to  be  the  enemy  of  her  family,  perhaps  she  will  not 
marry  him." 

"Marry  him?  Does  Clarence  think  she  will  marry  him? 
She  marry  a  squatter?  "  He  laughed  derisively. 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  223 

"  Clarence  is  no  squatter." 

"He  is  the  son  of  a  squatter." 

"You  have  been  one,  but  if  you  keep  your  word,  and  this 
land  is  paid  for,  you  will  not  be  a  squatter." 

"I  suppose  Clarence  followed  the  girl  to  New  York,  believ 
ing  she'll  marry  him.  I  thought  he  would  have  more  sense." 

"If  he  did  follow  her,  he  would  also  be  following  his  father's 
example." 

Mr.  Darrell  blushed,  but  he  smiled,  for  he  was  pleased. 
The  recollection  of  that  tender  episode  of  loving  devotion  was 
always  very  sweet  to  him.  It  had  been  a  folly  of  which  he 
was  proud  to  cherish  the  memory. 

But  Mr.  Darrell  did  not  pursue  the  subject  any  further  this 
time;  he  felt  he  would  be  defeated  if  he  continued  it;  it  was 
best  to  beat  a  masterly  retreat  before  he  was  routed.  He 
made  an  orderly  march  toward  the  stable,  and  Mrs.  Darrell, 
remaining  master  of  the  field,  busied  herself  with  her  flower 
garden,  where  Alice  presently  joined  her. 

"Mamma  dear,  I  overheard  your  conversation  with  papa; 
I  hope  you  won't  let  him  quarrel  with  the  Don." 

"I  shall  do  my  best  to  prevent  it,  but  you  see,  he  has  all  the 
settlers ,  at  his  heels  all  the  time  worrying  him  about  their 
claims.  Any  one  might  suppose  that  he  induced  them  to  come 
here,  instead  of  being  induced  by  them.  Since  they  heard  that 
their  appeal  was  dismissed,  they  have  openly  said  to  him  that 
they  rely  entirely  upon  his  assistance  to  retain  their  homes. 
This  pleases  him,  it  flatters  him,  but  it  is  a  piece  of  hypocrisy 
on  their  part,  because  the  Don  is  too  kind-hearted  to  eject 
them.  Clarence  says  that  the  Don  will  let  them  keep  their 
homesteads,  on  the  sole  condition  that  they  put  up  fences  to 
keep  his  cattle  off." 

"Can  anything  be  more  kind  and  generous?" 

"But  all  his  kindness  is  thrown  away." 

"At  all  events,  there  is  this  much  to  be  said,  that  if  papa 
will  insist  upon  wanting  to  be  a  squatter,  and  favor  squatters, 


224  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

he  will  find  that  not  one  of  his  family  approves  it.  No,  not 
even  the  children." 

"I  know  it;  Jane  and  Lucy  feel  very  badly  about  it." 

"And  so  does  Everett;  Webster  don't  like  it  either.  We 
all  feel  very  badly  to  see  papa  so  wrong,  and  the  worst  of  it  is, 
how  it  all  might  affect  our  darling  Clarence,  who  is  so  sweet 
and  so  good  to  all  of  us — yes,  to  everybody.  I  do  hope  he 
will  marry  Mercedes.  I  know  she  loves  him  dearly.  I  am 
so  afraid  that  papa  will  quarrel  with  the  Don,  and  Clarence 
and  Mercedes  be  separated.  It  would  be  awful." 

If  sweet  Alice  had  said  all  she  held  in  her  dear  heart,  and 
which  might  be  affected  by  the  course  that  her  father  would 
pursue  between  the  settlers  and  the  Don,  she  would  have  re 
vealed  other  anxieties  besides  those  she  felt  on  Clarence's 
account.  The  thought  that  Victoriano,  too,  might  be  estranged 
from  her,  had  made  that  dear  heart  of  hers  very  heavy  with 
forebodings.  Gentle  and  loving  though  she  was,  she  could 
not  heip  feeling  exasperated  to  foresee  how  miserable  she  and 
Clarence,  and  Mercedes  and  Victoriano  might  all  be,  all 
on  account  of  this  squatter  quarrel,  which  might  so  easily  be 
avoided  if  those  people  were  not  so  perverse,  and  her  father 
upholding  them,  which  was  perversity,  also. 

Thus  ran  Alice's  thoughts  as  she  helped  her  mother  to  trim 
the  fuschias  and  train  them  up  the  posts  of  the  porch,  beside 
the  honeysuckle  and  roses,  which  already  formed  an  arbor 
over  the  front  steps.  Occasionally  she  would  look  up  the  val 
ley  ;  it  was  time  that  Victoriano  should  be  riding  out  with 
Gabriel  or  his  father,  superintending  the  gathering  of  their 
cattle,  to  be  sent  to  the  Sierra. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear,  now  that  the  Government,  by  the 
dismissal  of  the  appeal,  acknowledged  that  Don  Mariano's  title 
was  good,  now,  when  by  this  decision,  the  settlers  should  have 
made  up  their  minds  to  leave  the  premises  or  purchase  their 
homesteads  from  the  owner  of  the  land,  now  their  disgraceful 
destruction  of  dumb  animals  was  renewed  with  obvious  viru 
lence,  and  every  night  the  firing  of  rifles  and  shot-guns  was  heard 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  225 

all  over  the  rancho.  Don  Mariano  saw  that  this  devastation  was 
a  malicious  revenge,  which  he  could  not  avert,  so  he  began  to 
collect  his  stock  to  take  them  all  to  the  mountains.  About  that 
time  he  received  the  letter  in  which  Clarence  proposed  to  buy 
all  of  his  cattle,  advising  him  to  restock  the  rancho  after 
wards,  when  cleared  of  all  trespassers.  He  liked  the  proposi 
tion,  and  immediately  gave  orders  to  drive  all  the  cattle  to  his 
sister's  rancho  as  they  were  got  together ;  there  to  be  put  in  a 
valley  and  kept  in  a  sort  of  depot,  as  they  were  gathered  and 
brought  in  bands  of  any  number,  to  wait  until  Clarence  re 
turned.  But  as  afterwards  Don  Mariano  feared  that  by  the 
time  Clarence  came  back,  there  would  be  no  cattle  left  to  sell, 
he  now  hastened  their  gathering  and  decided  to  send  them  off 
as  soon  as  possible.  Patiently,  and  without  a  word  of  com 
plaint,  Don  Mariano  and  his  two  sons  would  ride  out  every  day  to 
superintend  personally  the  collecting  of  the  cattle  and  sending 
them  off  to  his  sister's  rancho  to  the  valley,  where  the  rendez 
vous  or  depot  had  been  established.  Victoriano  named  this 
valley  the  '"''rodeo  triste"  insisting  that  the  cattle  knew  it  was  a 
"  rodeo  triste"  and  walked  to  it  sadly,  guessing  that  they  were 
to  be  exiled  and  butchered.  "Just  like  ourselves,  the  poor 
natives,"  he  said,  "tossed  from  one  cruelty  to  another  still 
worse,  and  then  crushed  out."  "Rodeo  triste"  was  a  very  ap 
propriate  name,  considering  the  fact  of  its  being  different  from 
the  gay  and  boisterous  gatherings  of  other  years,  when  "  the 
boys"  of  the  surrounding  ranches  all  assembled  at  Alamar  to 
separate  their  cattle  and  have  a  grand  time  marking  and 
branding  the  calves;  twisting  the  tails  of  stubborn  ones  by  way 
of  a  logical  demonstration,  a  convincing  argument  conveyed  in 
that  persuasive  form,  which  was  to  a  calf  always  unanswerable 
and  irresistible.  Then  the  day's  work  and  fun  would  wind  up 
with  a  hilarious  barbecue.  But  this  was  all  in  the  past,  which 
had  been  happy,  and  was  now  a  fading  tableau. 

Alice,  watching  from  behind  the  honeysuckle,  saw  Don 
Mariano,  his  two  sons  and  three  vaqueros  ride  down  the  valley. 
There  they  separated,  each  followed  by  a  vaquero^  going  in 
different  directions. 


226  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

But  Alice  was  not  the  only  one  watching  the  riders  going 
out  to  gather  stray  cattle.  Though  with  very  different  senti 
ments  from  those  which  agitated  her  loving  heart,  the  entire 
population  of  the  rancho  had  been  attentive,  though  unseen, 
spectators  of  the  Don's  proceedings.  In  the  evenings  the 
neighbors  would  come  to  relate  to  Darrell  how  many  head  of 
cattle  and  horses  they  had  seen  pass  by  their  farms,  and  renew 
their  comments  thereon. 

Thus  six  weeks  passed.  The  remittitur  from  the  Supreme 
Court  to  the  United  States  District  Court  at  San  Francisco 
came.  This  caused  a  ripple  of  excitement  among  the  settlers. 
Then  a  bigger  one — a  perfect  tidal  wave — was  expected  with 
the  surveyors  that  would  come  to  make  the  survey  of  the 
rancho;  and  when  this  should  be  finished,  then  the  grandest  and 
last  effort  must  be  made  by  the  settlers  to  prevent  the  approval 
of  it.  Thus,  at  least,  they  would  have  more  litigation,  and  while 
the  case  was  in  the  courts,  they  would  still  be  on  the  rancho 
raising  crops,  and  paying  no  taxes  and  no  rent,  as  they  knew 
perfectly  well  that  the  Don  would  never  sue  them  for  "rents 
and  profits." 

Everett  had  gone  to  town  for  the  mail  that  day;  letters  from 
Clarence  were  expected.  The  neighbors  knew  it,  for  by  dint 
of  asking  questions  they  had  learned  to  time  the  arrival  of  his 
letters,  and  would  drop  in  quite  accidentally,  but  unerringly, 
and  in  an  off-hand  manner  ask  if  there  was  "any  news  from 
Mr.  Clarence?"  The  Don,  with  his  two  sons  and  three 
vaqueros,  had  gone  out  in  search  of  his  cattle,  as  usual,  just  as 
if  no  remittitur  had  come.  The  settlers  thought  this  was  a 
most  excellent  subject  to  ventilate  with  their  neighbor,  Darrell; 
they  came  in  goodly  numbers,  "to  revolve  the  matter,  and  talk 
it  over  in  a  neighborly  way,"  Mr.  Hughes  had  said,  with  his  per 
ennial  smile. 

"Just  so;  sit  down,  sit  down,"  Mr.  Darrell  replied;  and  when 
all  having  dragged  chairs  and  pulled  them  forward  from  be 
tween  their  knees,  had  dropped  upon  them,  he  added,  "  What 
may  happen  to  be  the  matter  we  are  to  revolve?" 


THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  227 

"  Why,  the  remittitur,  of  course/'  Hughes  replied,  in  his  oil 
iest  tones. 

"  Oh,  I  thought  something  new,"  Darrell  remarked. 

"  That  is  a  clincher,  you  know,"  Hughes  replied. 

"Yes,  but  we  knew  it  was  coming." 

"  Don't  you  think  it  queer  that  the  Don  be  hurrying  off  his 
cattle,  now  that  he's  won  his  suit?  Don't  that  look  as  if  he  don't 
put  much  trust  in  his  victory?" 

"  He  trusts  his  victory,  but  he  knows  that  more  stock  has 
been  shot  for  the  last  six  weeks  than  for  six  months  previous. 
He  wants  to  save  a  few  head,"  said  Romeo  Hancock,  smiling. 

"  Roper  told  me,"  said  Hughes,  ignoring  what  Romeo  said, 
"that,  if  the  settlers  wish  it,  this  case  might  be  kept  in  the 
courts  for  fifty  years." 

"After  the  land  is  surveyed?"  Darrell  asked. 

"Yes,  after  the  survey." 

"  We  begin  our  new  war  by  objecting  to  the  survey,  I  suppose; 
ain't  it?"  Miller  asked. 

"That  is  what  Roper  says,"  Hughes  replied. 

"And,  meantime,  harass  the  enemy  like  the  deuce,"  Gasbang 
added. 
•  "  Exactly;  that  is  Roper's  advice,"  said  Mathews. 

With  a  gesture  of  disgust,  Romeo  said :  "  Of  course,  no  cat 
tle  having  been  shot  in  this  rancho  before  Roper  advised  it,  let 
the  harassing  begin  now." 

"  Look  here,  young  man,  you  had  better  get  more  years  over 
your  head  before  you  talk  so  glibly,"  Billy  Mathews  snarled  at 
Romeo. 

"  He  is  a  settler  like  yourself,  Mr.  Mathews,  and  he  has  as 
good  a  right  to  express  his  opinion,  though  he  may  not  have 
the  happiness  of  being  old,"  interposed  Everett 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  all  the  young  bloods  on  this  rancho  are 
either  on  the  fence  or  have  bolted  clean  over  to  the  other  side, 
Mr.  Darrell,"  said  Mathews,  addressing  his  remarks  to  the  elder 
Darrell,  "  but  they  forget  that  there  aren't  girls  enough  to  go 
round.  There  are  only  two  left,  if,  as  rumor  says,  Mr.  Clarence 
has  taken  the  blue-eyed  one." 


228  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

"Roper  says  those  girls  must  have  done  good  service  in 
Washington  to  get'  the  appeal  dismissed  so  quick."  Gasbang 
said,  grinning. 

"And  Roper  is  a  dirty-minded  dog  to  say  that,  and  I'll  make 
him  eat  his  dirty  words,  or  I'll  take  his  hide  off  of  his  filthy 
carcass,"  Everett  said,  jumping  up  from  his  seat,  livid  with 
anger. 

"Sit  still,  Retty,"  Mr.  Darrell  said,  "nobody  minds  what  Ro 
per  says,  except,  perhaps,  in  law  matters." 

"Some  people  do  mind  what  the  whelp  says,  as  he  is  quoted 
here,"  Everett  argued. 

"It  oughtn't  to  be  so.  I  don't  like  women's  names  mixed  up 
in  men's  business." 

"Roper  only  said  that,  because  we  heard  that  those  girls 
were  in  Washington  with  a  gay  crowd,  who  took  them  from 
New  York,"  Gasbang  explained. 

"Yes,  a  crowd  who  went  as  guests  of  Mr.  Lawrence  Mech 
lin,"  Everett  replied;  "a  New  York  banker,  and  brother  of 
this  Mr.  Mechlin  here.  Mr.  Mechlin  engaged  a  special  car,  as 
George  wanted  to  take  his  wife  and  sister-in-law  to  visit  the 
capital,  and  then  two  other  families  (of  the  highest  and  best 
in  New  York)  were  invited,  and  all  made  a  party  to  spend 
three  weeks  in  Washington.  Clarence  being  a  friend  of  George 
Mechlin's,  was  invited,  also." 

"That  may  all  be,  but  we  heard  that  the  crowd  was  a  gay 
one,  running  about  the  corridors  and  taking  lunches  at  the 
Capitol  with  Senators,"  Gasbang  explained.  "  And  as  that  is 
the  way  things  are  managed  when  there  are  any  axes  to  grind, 
Roper  guessed  that  the  girls  had  been  pressed  into  service  to 
help  with  their  smiles  to  bamboozle  Senators." 

"The  vile  little  reptile;  I'll  put  my  heel  on  him  yet,"  said 
Everett,  with  white  lips. 

"It  isn't  likely  that  Clarence  would  have  stayed  by,  seeing 
Mercedes  smiling  improperly  on  anybody,  if  he  cares  for 
her.  He  wouldn't  be  a  son  of  mine  if  he  did,"  said  Darrell, 
frowning. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  229 

"No;  that  is  all  a  very  mean  talk  of  Roper's.  Attorney 
General  Williams  had  promised  George  Mechlin's  uncle,  six 
months  ago,  to  dismiss  the  appeal  as  soon  as  the  Supreme 
Court  should  be  session,  and,  though  it  cuts  us  all  to  pieces, 
I  must  say  he  kept  his  word  like  a  man;  that's  all." 

"  Yes,  it  was  that  infernal,  dandified  puppy  George  Mech 
lin,  who  did  the  mischief.  I'll  be  even  with  him  yet  for  it,"  Old 
Mathews  growled. 

"Why  shouldn't  George  Mechlin  help  his  father-in-law?  Be 
cause  it  upsets  the  liver  of  the  amiable  Mr.  Mathews?"  asked 
Romeo,  laughing. 

"Keep  quiet,  Romeo,"  Old  Hancock  said,  smiling. 

"If  George  Mechlin  hadn't  helped,  the  thing  would  have 
been  done  in  some  other  way.  It  had  to  come,"  Darrell  said. 

"I  don't  know  about  that;  these  Californians  are  too  igno 
rant  to  know  how  to  defend  their  rights,  and  too  lazy  to  try, 
unless  some  American  prompts  them,"  Mathews  replied. 

"They  know  enough  to  employ  a  lawyer  to  defend  their 
rights,"  Old  Miller  observed. 

"Yes;  but,  after  all,  they  have  to  use  influence  in  Washing 
ton,"  Old  Mathews  insisted.  "And  what  influence  have  they, 
unless  it  is  by  the  aid  of  some  American  ?" 

"And  the  pretty  daughters,"  added  Gasbang. 

"  Never  mind  the  pretty  daughters,"  said  Miller,  seeing  that 
Everett  clenched  his  fists  as  if  ready  to  pounce  upon  Gasbang 
at  the  next  provocation.  "  The  question  now  is,  what  is  to  be 
done?  and  who  is  for  us,  and  who  against?  The  time  has  come 
when  we  have  to  count  noses." 

"Yes,  what  are  you  going  to  do,  Mr.  Darrell?  "  asked  velvety 
Hughes,  with  his  sickly  smile. 

"  Nothing.  What  is  there  for  me  to  do  ?  You  heard  me 
promise  to  the  Don  that  I  would  pay  him  for  the  land  I  was 
locating,  if  it  was  decided  that  the  title  was  his." 

"You  said  when  the  title  is  settled"  Gasbang  said. 

"  The  title  is  settled  as  far  as  the  Government  is  concerned. 
As  you — the  settlers — and  the  Government  were  on  one  side, 


230  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

and  the  Don  on  the  other,  I  guess  he  now  naturally  supposes 
I  must  regard  the  trtle  as  settled,  since  the  principal  opponent 
(the  Government)  has  thrown  up  the  sponge,"  Darrell  answered. 

"But  we  haven't,"  said  Mathews;  "and  as  long  as  we  keep 
up  the  fight  I  don't  see  how  the  title  can  be  considered  settled." 

"It  is  settled  with  the  Government,  which  was  the  question 
when  I  made  my  location,"  Darrell  answered. 

"But  you  ain't  going  to  desert  our  cause?"  Hughes  asked. 
"You'll  be  our  friend  to  the  last,  won't  you?" 

"  Such  is  my  intention,  but  what  I  might  think  I  ought  to 
do,  circumstances  will  point  out  to  me.  Probably  we  will  see 
our  way  better  after  the  survey  is  made.  Meantime,  as  the  Don 
don't  trouble  any  one  with  orders  to  vacate,  the  best  thing  to 
do  is  to  keep  quiet." 

"And  spare  his  cattle,"  Romeo  added,  looking  at  Mathews. 

"You  seem  to  want  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  me,  youngster," 
growled  Mathews. 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  Did  you  ever  shoot  any  of 
the  Don's  cattle,  that  you  should  appropriate  my  remarks  to 
yourself?  If  you  never  did,  I  can't  mean  you." 

The  boys,  the  young  men,  all  laughed.  Mathews  arose,  too 
angry  to  remain  quiet. 

"Next  time  I  come  to  talk  business — serious  business — with 
men,  with  men  of  my  age — I  don't  want  to  be  twitted  by  any 
youngster.  Children  should  be  seen,  and  not  heard,"  said  he, 
putting  on  his  hat  energetically. 

"Why,  Mr.  Mathews,  you  shouldn't  call  me  a  youngster. 
You  forget  I  am  a  married  man,"  Romeo  replied,  with  great 
amiability.  "  I  am  a  papa,  I  am.  Our  baby  is  now  six  months 
old;  he  weighed  twelve  pounds  when  he  was  born.  Now,  can 
you  show  us  a  baby  of  your  own,  only  as  old  as  that,  and  weigh 
half  as  much?" 

The  shout  of  laughter  that  followed  these  words  was  too 
much  for  Mathews.  The  banging  of  doors  as  he  left  was  the 
only  answer  he  deigned  to  give. 

"  Mr.  Mathews !     Five  pounds !     Two-and-a-half,  Mr.  Math- 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  231 

ews ! "  shouted  Romeo  from  the  window,  to  the  retreating  form 
of  Billy,  swiftly  disappearing  in  long  strides  along  the  garden 
walk. 

"  That  is  the  hardest  hit  Mathews  ever  got.  He  is  awfully 
sensitive  about  having  always  been  jilted  and  never  been  mar 
ried,"  Miller  said. 

"  He'll  never  forgive  you,"  added  old  Hancock. 

"  He  never  has  forgiven  me  for  locating  my  claim  either,  but 
I  manage  to  survive.  One  more  grievance  can't  sour  him  much 
more,"  Romeo  replied,  laughing. 

After  Mathews  had  made  his  exit,  the  conversation  went  on 
more  harmoniously.  Gasbang  was  now  the  only  malignant 
spirit  present,  but  being  very  cowardly,  he  felt  that  as  Mathews' 
support  was  withdrawn,  and  the  other  settlers  were  inclined  to 
abide  by  Darrell's  advice,  he  would  be  politic;  he  would  listen 
only  and  report  ^o  Peter  Roper.  Gasbang  knew  well  how  unre 
liable  Roper  was,  but  as  they  were  interested  in  sundry  enter 
prises  of  a  doubtful  character,  he  consulted  Peter  in  all  matters 
when  found  sober. 

Darrell's  advice  being  to  "keep  quiet,"  the  meeting  soon 
broke  up  and  the  settlers  went  home  by  their  separate  ways, 
all  more  or  less  persuaded  that,  after  all,  peace  was  the  best 
thing  all  around.  Old  Mr.  Hancock  gave  utterance  to  this 
sentiment  as  he  stopped  by  the  gate  of  the  Darrell  garden  to 
say  good-night  to  his  neighbors. 

"  I  heard  the  Don  say  that  he  does  not  blame  us  settlers  so 
much  for  taking  his  land  as  he  blames  our  law-givers  for  those 
laws  which  induce  us  to  do  so — laws  which  are  bound  to  array 
one  class  of  citizens  against  another  class,  and  set  us  all  by  the 
ears,"  Romeo  said. 

"  Yes,  I  heard  him  say  about  the  same  thing,  but  I  thought 
he  said  it  because  he  was  a  hypocrite,  and  to  keep  us  from  shoot 
ing  his  cattle,"  Gasbang  added. 

"  No  matter  what  might  be  his  motive,  the  sentiment  is  kind 
anyway,"  Hancock,  senior,  said. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  others,  still  unwilling  to  yield. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

HOME  AGAIN. 

On  the  25th  day  of  May,  of  '74,  Elvira  and  Mercedes  found 
themselves  again  under  the  paternal  roof  of  their  California 
home,  in  the  Alamar  rancho.  They  could  have  arrived  ten 
days  sooner  had  they  left  New  York  on  the  first  of  the  month, 
as  was  first  intended.  This  they  were  not  allowed  to  do,  be 
cause  when  Mrs.  L.  Mechlin  heard  that  Mercedes'  birthday 
would  be  on  the  5th  of  May,  she  immediately  said  she  could 
not  and  would  not  think  of  allowing  Mercedes  to  spend  her 
eighteenth  birthday  in  the  cars.  Consequently,  invitations 
would  be  issued  the  following  day  (which  was  the  22d  of 
April)  for  "A  fete  in  celebration  of  Miss  Alamar's  birthday,  on 
the  $th  day  of  May" 

The  invitations  were  issued  thus  early  to  prevent  friends  of 
Mrs.  Mechlin's  from  going  into  the  country  for  the  summer,  as 
many  of  them  did  every  year,  in  May.  All,  however,  accepted, 
and  waited  most  graciously. 

The  season  was  already  too  far  advanced,  aud  the  nights  were 
getting  too  warm  to  enjoy  dancing,  so  Mrs.  Mechlin  thought 
it  would  be  better  to  have  an  excursion  to  West  Point;  to 
charter  a  river  steamer,  and  thus  pass  the  day  on  the  water; 
to  take  breakfast  on  board  on  the  way  to  the  Point;  visit  the 
Post;  see  the  cadets  drill  and  review;  and  re-embark;  take  din 
ner  on  board,  and  then  the  young  people  dance  on  deck,  as 
there  would  be  a  full  band  to  give  them  music. 

This  was  the  programme — which  though  decided  upon 
hurriedly,  on  their  return  from  Baltimore,  where  they  had 
been  visiting — was  carried  out  successfully.  All  their  pleasure 
excursions  had  been  equally  delightful.  They  had  visited 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  233 

Boston  first,  then  they  went  to  Philadelphia,  intending  to 
remain  only  three  or  four  days,  but  when  they  were  there, 
Mrs.  Mechlin's  relatives  in  Baltimore  sent  urgent  invitations 
to  visit  them,  so  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  accept. 
Thus  the  jaunt  to  Philadelphia  was  extended  to  Baltimore, 
and  might  have  been  prolonged,  had  not  Elvira  refused  to  be 
separated  from  George  one  day  more.  This  young  gentleman, 
on  his  part,  seemed  to  have  thought,  too,  that  Elvira  had  been 
away  long  enough.  For  as  the  party  were  waiting  for  the  train 
to  move  out  of  the  depot  who  should  come  aboard  but  this 
same  young  gentleman,  George  Mechlin. 

"The  darling,"  said  Elvira,  perfectly  overjoyed  at  the  sight 
of  that  beloved  apparition,  throwing  her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"Precious,"  said  he,  clasping  her  to  his  heart. 

And  now  Elvira  and  Mercedes,  surrounded  by  their  beloved 
family,  were  relating  this  episode  and  many  other  occurrences 
of  their  eastern  visit,  all  sitting  in  their  favorite  front  veranda. 

The  Holman  girls  were  there,  too.  They  had  made  several 
visits  to  Carlota  and  Rosario  within  the  last  ten  months,  but 
this  time  they  came  to  see  Elvira  and  Mercedes.  Mr.  Hol 
man  himself  had  accompanied  them,  that  being  a  good  pre 
text  to  question  George  closely  regarding  Texas  Pacific 
matters.  Mr.  Holman  had  invested  all  his  ready  money  in 
San  Diego,  placing  implicit  faith  in  the  fact  that  the  building 
of  the  Texas  Pacific  was  a  measure  of  national  importance 
so  manifest  that  Congress  would  never  have  the  hardihood  to 
deny  it  assistance,  nor  would  be  so  lacking  in  sense  of  honor, 
sense  of  justice,  as  to  deprive  millions  of  American  people  of 
a  railway  so  much  needed.  These  had  been  the  reasons,  he 
alleged,  for  plunging  headlong  into  real  estate  speculations,  fol 
lowed  closely  by  his  friends,  Don  Mariano  and  Mr.  James 
Mechlin. 

These  three  gentlemen  now  sat  at  the  eastern  end  of  the 
veranda,  listening  to  what  George  said  that  he  and  his  uncle 
had  learned  in  Washington  regarding  the  prospect  of  that  un 
lucky  railroad;  while  the  ladies  were  equally  entertained,  listen- 


234  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

ing  to  Elvira  and  Mercedes,  on  the  western  end  of  the  same 
veranda. 

"But  what  has  become  of  the  handsome  Clarence  ?  Why  is 
he  not  here?"  Corina  inquired,  seeing  Everett  and  Victoriano 
riding  up  with  Gabriel  towards  the  house. 

Elvira  informed  her  that  on  their  arrival  at  San  Francisco, 
Clarence  found  it  necessary  to  visit  his  farm,  and  thence  to  go 
to  Arizona  on  business,  but  would  return  about  the  first  of 
July. 

"We  heard  that  his  mine  is  in  bonanza,"  Amelia  said. 

"That  it  has  been  in  bonanza  ever  since  he  bought  it — 
hasn't  he  told  you  that?"  Corina  added. 

"No;  he  only  said  that  the  ore  was  very  rich,"  Elvira  re 
plied. 

Victoriano  and  Everett  now  came  in  and  took  seats  near  the 
ladies.  Gabriel  joined  the  gentlemen,  and  soon  was  deeply  in 
terested  in  their  conversation,  it  of  course  being  upon  that 
subject — the  railroad — which  filled  the  minds  and  hearts  of 
all  the  San  Diego  people,  absorbing  all  their  faculties  and  all 
their  money. 

"How  are  all  the  ladies  of  your  family?  Well?"  Amelia 
asked  of  Everett. 

"Yes,  thank  you.  They  are  all  well,  and  I  think  they  will 
be  up  this  evening — at  least,  some  of  them  will.  I  heard  words 
to  that  effect,"  Everett  replied. 

"I  hope  all  will  come,"  Elvira  said. 

"What?     Mr.  Darrell,  senior,  also?"  Corina  asked. 

"Certainly.     Why  not?"  Mercedes  answered. 

"We  were  speaking  of  the  ladies — but  if  Mr.  Darrell  should 
call,  we  will  be  happy  to  receive  him  with  sincere  cordiality," 
Elvira  added. 

"All  of  which  would  be  thrown  away  upon  the  stiffest 
neck  in  San  Diego  County,"  Victoriano  observed. 

Everett  laughed. 

"Why,  Tano!  What  makes  you  talk  like  that?"  Mercedes 
exclaimed,  reddening  with  evident  annoyance. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  235 

"Because  his  l butt-headedness'  is  like  that  of  a  vicious  old 
mule,  which  no  one  began  to  break  until  he  was  ten  years 
old,  and  loves  to  kick  from  pure  cussedness,"  Victoriano  ex 
plained,  with  free  use  of  slang. 

"If  Mr.  Darrell  has  said  or  done  anything  to  vex  you,  the 
best  thing  is  not  to  go  to  his  house,  but  it  is  not  very  cour 
teous  to  speak  as  you  have  in  the  presence  of  his  son,"  Doha 
Josefa  said. 

"I  forgive  him,"  Everett  said,  patting  Tano  on  the  back. 

"Not  go  to  his  house!"  Tano  exclaimed.  "That  is  ex 
actly  what  the  old  pirate  wants.  It  would  be  nuts  for  the 
old  Turk  if  I  stayed  away.  -Not  much — I  won't  stay  away. 
I'll  go  when  he  is  at  the  colony  with  his  sweetly-scented  pets." 

"Where  is  the  colony?"  Mercedes  asked. 

"That  is  the  new  name  for  the  large  room  next  to  the 
dining-room,  which  Clarence  said  he  built  for  a  'growlery.' 
Alice  called  it  the  *  squat teryj  because  father  always  receives 
the  settlers  there;  but  mother  changed  the  name  to  ' colony? 
to  make  it  less  offensive,  and  because  the  talk  there  is  always 
about  locating,  or  surveying,  or  fencing  land — always  land — as 
it  would  be  in  a  new  colony,"  Everett  explained. 

"Whether  he  be  at  the  colony  or  not,  you  should  not  go  if 
he  does  not  wish  you  to  visit  his  house,"  Dona  Josefa  said  to 
Tano. 

"But  we  all  wish  it — my  mother  and  every  one  of  her  chil 
dren.  Father  doesn't  say  anything  about  Tano's  coming  or 
not,  but  he  is  cross  to  all  of  us,  and  don't  have  the  politeness 
to  be  more  amiable  in  Tano's  presence — which,  of  course,  is 
very  disagreeable,"  Everett  replied. 

"I  think  Mrs.  Darrell  ought  to  put  her  foot  down,  and  have 
it  out  with  the  old  filibuster,"  Tano  asserted. 

"We  will  see  what  he  will  do  when  Clarence  comes,"  Ever 
ett  said. 

Everett  thought  as  all  the  family  did— that  Clarence,  being 
the  favorite  child  of  the  old  man,  and  having  naturally  a  win 
ning  manner  and  great  amiability,  combined  with  persuasive- 


236  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

ness,  would  influence  his  father,  and  dispel  his  bad  humor. 
But  if  the  family  had  known  what  was  boiling  and  seething  in 
the  cauldron  of  their  father's  mind,  they  would  have  perceived 
that,  for  once,  neither  Clarence's  influence,  nor  yet  the  more 
powerful  one  wielded  by  Mrs.  Darrell,  would  at  present  be  as 
effective  as  they  heretofore  had  been. 

Time  alone  must  be  the  agent  to  operate  on  that  hard  skull. 
Time  and  circumstances  which,  fortunately,  no  one  as  yet  was 
misanthrophic  enough  to  foresee.  The  fact  was,  that  no  one 
of  his  family  had  understood  William  Darrell.  It  can  hardly 
be  said  that  he  understood  himself,  for  he  sincerely  believed 
that  he  had  forever  renounced  his  "squatting"  propensities, 
and  honestly  promised  his  wife  that  he  would  not  take  up 
land  claimed  by  any  one  else.  But  no  sooner  was  he  sur 
rounded  by  men  who,  though  his  inferiors,  talked  loudly  in 
assertion  of  their  "rights  under  the  law;"  and  no  sooner  had 
he  thousands  of  broad  acres  before  his  eyes — acres  which,  by 
obeying  the  laws  of  Congress,  he  could  make  his  own — than 
he  again  felt  within  him  the  old  squatter  of  Sonoma  and  Napa 
valleys.  That  mischievous  squatter  had  not  lain  dead  there 
in  ;  he  had  been  slumbering  only,  and  unconsciously  dreaming 
of  the  advantages  that  the  law  really  gave  to  settlers.  Along 
side  the  sleeping  squatter  had  also  slumbered  Darrell's  vanity, 
and  this  was,  as  it  is  generally  in  every  man,  the  strongest 
quality  of  his  mind,  the  chief  commanding  trait,  before  which 
everything  must  give  way. 

Mrs.  Darrell  had  heretofore  been  the  only  will  that  had 
dared  stand  before  it,  but  Mrs.  Darrell,  being  a  wise  little 
woman,  not  always  made  direct  assaults  upon  the  strong  cita 
del — oftener  she  made  flank  movements  and  laid  sieges.  This 
time,  however,  all  tactics  had  thus  far  failed,  and  Mrs.  Darrell 
withdrew  all  her  forces,  and  waited,  in  "masterly  inactivity," 
reinforcements  when  Clarence  returned. 

What  exasperated  Darrell  the  most,  and  had  ended  by  put 
ting  him  in  a  bad  humor,  was  a  lurking  self-reproach  he  could 
not  silence,  a  consciousness  that  having  promised  Don  Mari- 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  237 

ano  to  pay  for  his  land  whenever  the  title  was  considered  set 
tled,  that  it  was  fair  to  suppose  he  ought  to  pay  now.  But  on 
the  other  hand,  he  had  also  promised  the  settlers  to  stand  by 
them,  and  was  determined  to  do  so.  Thus  he  stood  in  his  own 
mind  self-accused,  unhappy  and  unrepentant,  but  resolutely 
upholding  a  lost  cause.  He  avoided  the  society  of  his  family 
with  absurd  persistency.  After  meals  he  would  fill  his  pipe, 
and  march  himself  off  to  the  farther  end  of  his  grain  fields; 
resting  his  elbows  on  the  fence  boards,  and  turning  his  back 
upon  the  house  which  contained  his  dissenting  family,  would 
puff  his  smoke  in  high  dudgeon,  like  an  overturned  locomo 
tive  which  had  run  off  its  track,  and  became  hopelessly 
ditched.  In  that  frame  of  mind,  he  thought  himself  ready  to 
do  battle  against  all  his  family,  but  he  knew  he  dreaded  Clar 
ence's  return. 

However,  that  event  had  at  last  arrived,  and  there  was  Clar 
ence  now  on  the  porch — just  come  from  Arizona — kissing  all 
the  ladies  of  the  family  and  hugging  all  the  males,  not  omitting 
the  old  man,  who  was  literally  as  well  as  figuratively  taken  off 
his  feet  by  the  strong  arms  of  the  dreaded  Clarence. 

"Clary  is  so  much  in  love,  father,  that  he  comes  courting 
you,  too,"  Everett  said,  laughing,  as  they  all  went  into  the 
parlor. 

"I  suppose  so,"  Darrell  answered,  not  looking  at  any  one's 
face,  excepting  that  of  the  clock  on  the  chimney  mantel. 

Mrs.  Barrel's  eyes,  however,  were  not  in  the  least  evasive — 
they  met  those  of  Clarence,  and  he  read  in  them  a  volume  of 
what  was  troubling  his  father's  mind.  He  longed  to  have  a 
talk  with  that  true-hearted  and  clear-headed,  well-beloved 
mother,  but  he  must  wait — for  now  came  Tisha  to  announce 
that  luncheon  was  on  the  table.  She  was  grinning  with  de 
light  to  see  her  favorite  Massa  Clary  again,  and  Clarence 
jumped  up  and  ran  to  throw  his  arms  around  her,  making 
that  faithful  heart  throb  with  unalloyed  happiness,  for  she 
loved  him  from  his  babyhood,  just  if  he  had  been  her  own 
child. 


238  THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

"I  love  them  all,  missis — all  your  dear  children,"  she  would 
say  to  Mrs.  Dafrell;  "and  they  are  all  good  children;  but 
Massa  Clary  I  love  the  best  of  all.  Next  comes  Miss  Alice. 
But  Massa  Clary  took  my  heart  when  he  was  six  months  old, 
and  had  the  measles.  He  was  the  best,  sweetest  baby  I  ever 
saw,  and  so  beautiful."  Thus  Tisha  would  run  on,  if  you  let 
her  follow  the  bent  of  her  inclination,  for  Clarence  was  a  theme 
she  never  tired  of. 

All  sorts  of  questions  now  showered  upon  Clarence  about 
New  York,  about  Washington,  about  San  Francisco,  and  about 
Arizona — all  of  which  he  answered  most  amiably. 

"And  are  the  Mechlins  very  grand?  As  rich  as  one  might 
suppose?  hearing  the  Holman  and  Alamar  girls  talk  of  the 
parties  and  excursions  that  Mr.  Lawrence  Mechlin  gave  in 
honor  of  Elvira?"  Jane  asked. 

"The  excursion  to  West  Point  was  to  celebrate  Mercedes' 
birthday,"  Alice  observed. 

"  Yes,  the  Mechlins  must  be  rich,  to  judge  by  their  style  of 
living.  Their  social  position  is  certainly  very  high,"  Clarence 
replied. 

"You  had  a  delightful  time,  Clary?"  Everett  said. 

"Yes,  indeed;  most  delightful,"  was  the  answer. 

"We,  too,  have  had  lots  of  fun,  with  old  Mathews  on  the 
rampage,  like  an  old  hen  who  got  wet  and  lost  her  only  chick 
en,"  said  Willie,  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 

"Willie!"  Mrs.  Darrell  said,  to  impose  silence,  but  as  Clar 
ence  and  Everett  laughed,  and  his  father  did  not  seem  partic 
ularly  displeased,  Willie  added : 

"And  the  old  man  gets  so  mad,  that  he  perspires,  and 
smoke  comes  out  of  his  back,  as  if  his  clothes  were  on  fire." 

"Oh,  Willie!  how  you  exaggerate,"  Lucy  exclaimed. 

"I  don't.  He  snorts  and  clucks  and  growls  and  snarls. 
Romeo  says  he  miauls  like  a  disappointed  hyena." 

"That  will  do.  You  must  not  repeat  such  unkind  criti 
cisms.  Romeo  is  always  ridiculing  Mr.  Mathews,"  Mrs.  Dar 
rell  said. 


239  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"  Old  Mathews  is  in  worse  humor  since  the  Don  began  to 
send  his  cattle  away,"  Webster  said. 

"Why  so?"  Clarence  asked 

"Because  they  made  nice  targets  for  his  rifle,"  Everett  re 
plied. 

"Scandalous!"  Clarence  exclaimed. 

"He  threatens  to  shoot  George  Mechlin,  Tom  Hughes 
says,"  Webster  added. 

"Why?  "Clarence  asked. 

"Because  he  got  the  appeal  dismissed,"  answered  Web 
ster. 

"He  is  foolish  to  suppose  that  if  George  hadn't  had  it  dis 
missed  that  no  one  else  would,"  Clarence  said. 

"I  met  the  old  man  this  morning.  He  stopped  his  wagon 
to  ask  me  if  father  knew  that  Congress  had  passed  the  ap 
propriation  for  money  to  survey  lands  in  California.  I  told 
him  I  hadn't  heard,  and  he  went  off  whipping  his  horses, 
and  swearing  at  Don  Mariano  and  George  Mechlin,"  Everett 
said. 

"  I  thought  there  would  be  a  better  feeling  when  the  Don's 
cattle  should  be  sent  off,  as  they  were  the  principal  cause  of 
irritation,"  Clarence  observed. 

"And  it  is  so.  Only  those  boys — Romeo,  Tom  and  Jack 
Miller — are  always  ridiculing  or  teasing  Mathews,"  Darrell 
said. 

"Why,  father!"  Everett  exclaimed;  "the  fathers  of  those 
boys  are  as  bad  as  Mathews,  and  old  Gasbang  is  worse 
yet!" 

"Gasbang  was  always  dishonest,  but  he  is  worse  now,  at 
Peter  Roper's  instigation,"  Darrell  said. 

"Gasbang  says  that  he  and  Roper  will  send  the  Don  to  the 
poor-house,"  Everett  said. 

"Not  while  I  live,"  Clarence  replied;  adding,  "and  how  is 
everybody  at  the  Alamar  house — all  well?" 

Up  started  Willie  and  Clementine,  eager  to  be  the  first  to  tell 
Clarence  the  great  news. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  240 

"They  had  two  arrivals/'  Mrs".  Darrell  said. 

"Oh,  Clary!  you  never  saw  prettier  babies  in  all  your  life! 
Both  have  the  loveliest  blue  eyes,"  Clementine  exclaimed, 
joining  her  hands,  as  if  in  .prayer,  as  Tisha  always  did  when 
speaking  of  Clarence's  babyhood. 

"The  boy  has  gray  eyes,"  Willie  interposed,  with  authority 
not  to  be  controverted.  "He  hasn't  no  blue  eyes." 

"How  do  you  know?  You  haven't  seen  them,  but  /have," 
Clementine  asserted;  and  the  little  girl  is  exactly  the  image  of 
Miss  Mercedes.  She  has  Miss  Mercedes'  blue  eyes,  exactly, 
with  long,  curling  lashes,  the  little  thing." 

"The  girl  looks  like  Don  Gabriel,  as  she  ought  to,"  Willie 
stated  in  a  peremptory  manner,  not  to  be  contradicted,  and 
whilst  he  discussed  with  Clementine  the  looks  of  the  babies, 
Clarence  was  informed  by  his  mother  and  sisters  that  Elvira 
was  the  happy  mother  of  a  big,  handsome  boy,  and  Lizzie  re 
joiced  in  the  possession  of  a  beautiful  little  girl,  which  weighed 
nearly  as  much  as  her  boy  cousin.  That  Dona  Josefa  and 
Mrs.  Beatrice  Mechlin  were  nearly  crazy  with  happiness,  but 
that  the  craziest  of  all  was  Mr.  James  Mechlin,  who  made 
more  "fuss"  over  those  two  babies  than  either  Gabriel  or 
George,  and  went  from  one  house  to  the  other  all  day  long, 
watching  each  baby,  and  talking  about  them  by  the  hour. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 
THE  BREWERS  OF  MISCHIEF. 

Eight  delicious  weeks  passed — the  most  delightful  that  Clar 
ence  and  Mercedes  had  ever  lived.  The  first  of  September 
had  dawned,  and  on  the  i6th  they  would  be  married.  With 
the  first  rays  of  the  coming  morn,  Clarence  arose  and  went  to 
the  west  window  of  his  chamber,  which  looked  towards  the 
Alamar  House.  As  he  peeped  through  the  closed  shutters, 
thinking  it  would  seem  foolish  to  open  them  so  early,  he  saw 
the  shutters  of  one  window — in  that  well  known  row  where 
Mercedes'  room  was  located,  and  which  looked  to  the  east — • 
pushed  open,  and  a  white  hand  and  part  of  a  white  arm  came 
out  and  fastened  it  back.  His  heart  told  him  whose  white 
arm  that  was,  and  of  course  he  could  not  think  of  going  back 
to  bed.  He  began  to  dress  himself,  deliberating  whether  he 
should  or  not  go  to  town  that  day  and  telegraph  to  Hubert  to 
do  as  he  thought  best  about  selling  another  cargo  of  ores,  or 
say  to  wait  for  him,  that  he  would  be  at  San  Francisco  on  the 
2oth.  When  he  was  dressed,  he  sat  by  the  west  window  and 
tried  to  read,  but  that  white  arm  would  come  across  the  page 
and  that  white  hand  would  cover  the  letters,  so  that  he  threw 
the  book  down  and  began  to  walk,  trying  to  think  about  that 
business  of  selling  the  ore  to  the  Austrian  house,  of  which  Hu 
bert  had  been  writing  to  him.  Yes,  he  thought,  the  best  thing 
would  be  to  go  to  town  that  same  day  and  ask  Hubert  couldn't 
the  matter  wait  until  the  2oth.  But  should  Hubert  be  com 
ing,  or  should  it  be  necessary  to  wait  for  telegrams,  he  might 
not  be  back  until  the  following  day  in  the  evening.  He  would 
go  immediately  after  breakfast  to  tell  Mercedes  that  he  could 
not  see  her  that  evening. 


242  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

Mercedes  and-  Dona  Josefa  were  on  the  front  piazza  when 
he  arrived,  and  Gabriel  was  talking  to  George  in  quite  an  ex 
cited  manner,  for  him,  as  he  was  always  so  calm  and  self- 
contained.  As  soon  as  Clarence  came  up  the  piazza  steps, 
George  began  to  tell  him  that  some  of  the  last  lot  of  cattle 
which  had  been  sent  off  to  the  mountains,  had  got  away  from 
the  herders  and  returned  to  the  rancho  on  the  previous  day, 
and  that  morning  a  couple  of  cows  of  a  very  choice  breed  were 
found  shot  through  the  body,  in  a  dying  condition.  The  poor 
brutes  had  to  be  shot  dead  by  Gabriel  himself,  to  save  them 
from  further  suffering.  No  one  knew  who  had  fired  on  the 
poor  dumb  animals,  but  circumstantial  evidence  clearly  point 
ed  to  Old  Mathews. 

Clarence  was  very  angry,  of  course.  He  reflected  in  silence 
for  a  few  moments,  then  said  to  Gabriel : 

"I  think  if  Don  Mariano  would  make  now,  to-day,  a  deed 
of  sale  of  all  his  cattle  and  horses  to  me,  they  would  have  a 
better  chance  of  being  spared.  Not  that  Mathews,  or  Gasbang, 
or  Miller  like  me  any  better,  but  they  are  not  so  anxious  to 
annoy  me." 

"I  think  Clarence's  idea  is  a  good  one,"  George  said. 

"I  think  so,  too,  and  have  thought  so  for  some  time,"  Ga 
briel  replied.  "We  are  going  to  drive  off  the  last  lot  to-day. 
Father  and  Tano  are  down  in  the  valley.  I'll  tell  him  what 
you  say  as  soon  as  I  go  down.  I  think  we  will  return  by 
to-morrow  night,  and  he  can  draw  up  the  deed  then." 

"Tell  him  that  I  shall  consider  that  the  cattle  are  mine  now, 
and  will  let  our  friends,  the  settlers,  know  it,  so  that  they  can 
have  the  satisfaction  of  killing  my  cat  fie" 

"Do  you  really  mean  it?"  Dona  Josefa  asked. 

"Certainly.  Don  Mariano  can  buy  all  the  cattle  he  wants 
to  re-stock  his  rancho  after  he  gets  rid  of  the  two-legged  ani 
mals,"  Clarence  replied. 

"That  is,  if  he  wants  to  restock  it.  He  was  talking  with 
George  and  me  last  night,  and  he  said  if  the  Texas  Pacific  is 
built,  he  will  have  all  his  land  surveyed  to  sell  it  in  farming 


THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  243 

lots,  and  will  not  put  cattle  in  it.  But  if  the  railroad  is  not 
built,  then  the  best  use  he  can  make  of  the  rancho  will  be  to 
make  it  a  cattle  rancho  again,  after  the  squatters  go  away," 
Gabriel  said,  adding  that  he  must  be  going  to  join  his  father. 
He  then  went  into  the  hall  to  go  to  the  court-yard,  where  his 
saddled  horse  and  his  vaquero  waited  for  him.  Clarence  and 
George  followed  to  bid  him  good-by.  Clarence  said: 

"  I  wrote  to  Hubert  about  procuring  for  you  a  place  at  a 
bank,  to  get  broken  into  the  banking  business,  and  he  replied 
that  he  can,  and  will  get  you  a  place.  Would  you  like  to  try 
it,  now  that  you  will  have  less  to  do  here,  when  there  will  be 
no  cattle  at  the  rancho?  I  am  going  to  write  and  telegraph  to 
Hubert  to-day — or  he  might  be  down  in  to-morrow's  steamer 
— so  that  I  can  tell  him  about  what  time  you  might  go  up." 

"  I  think  you  had  better  go  about  the  time  Clarence  and 
Mercedes  get  married,  as  they  will  immediately  go  to  their 
house  in  San  Francisco,"  George  suggested. 

"Yes,  I  think  that  will  be  the  best  time,"  Gabriel  said. 

"Very  well;  I'll  write  to  Hubert  that  we  will  be  up  by  the 
2oth  of  this  month,"  Clarence  said. 

"Gabriel  can  take  his  place  on  the  ist  of  October.  That 
will  do  splendidly,  as  Lizzie  and  Mercedes  will  be  together," 
George  said. 

"  But  we  must  live  in  the  hope  that  we  will  all  come  down 
to  make  our  homes  here,"  Gabriel  added. 

"  Of  course.     That  is  understood,"  Clarence  replied. 

"Though  at  times  I  feel  discouraged,  still,  I  can't  well  see 
how  the  Texas  Pacific  is  to  be  defeated  permanently.  That 
would  be  too  outrageous.  Let  us  hope  that  by  next  year  our 
banking  scheme  will  be  carried  out,"  George  said. 

"  I  hope  so,  and  as  I  have  made  more  money  than  I  had 
when  we  first  talked  about  it  we  can  put  in  more  capital.  We 
can,  if  you  advise  it,  put  in  a  whole  million  now,"  Clarence 
said. 

"  So  much  the  better,"  George  said,  and  both  shook  hands 


244  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

with  Gabriel,  who.  quickly  jumped  on  his  horse  and  was  off  at 
a  gallop,  followed  by  his  vaquero. 

It  was  the  hour  when  the  babies  got  their  morning  bath. 
George  had  great  pleasure  in  seeing  his  boy  enjoy  the  sensation 
of  floating  in  the  water;  so  he  let  Clarence  return  to  the  porch 
where  Mercedes  was  now  alone,  and  he  went  to  watch  the 
bathing  of  his  boy. 

Clarence  sat  close  to  Mercedes  and  said:  "Does  the  sweet 
est  thing  that  God  created  realize  that  this  day  is  the  first  day 
of  September?" 

"If  you  mean  me,  though  you  make  me  feel  very  foolish 
with  your  exaggerated  praise,  I  must  say  that  I  do  realize  that 
to-day  is  the  first  of  September,"  she  replied,  smiling. 

"And  does  the  loveliest  rosebud  and  the  prettiest  humming 
bird  remember  that  in  two  weeks  more  she  is  to  be  mine,  mine 
forever?  " 

"  Hush,  Clarence,  some  one  might  hear  you,"  she  said,  put 
ting  her  hand  over  his  lips,  blushing  and  looking  around, 
alarmed.  He  took  that  hand  and  kissed  the  palm  of  it,  then 
turned  it  over  and  kissed  the  back  of  it  most  ardently,  and  held 
it  in  his  own,  saying: 

"  I  have  a  piece  of  information  that  is  going  to  make  your 
dear  heart  glad.  What  will  you  give  for  it?" 

"  What  is  it  ?     Do  tell  me.     Is  it  about  papa  ?  " 

"  No,  but  it  is  about  Gabriel  and  Lizzie." 

"What?" 

"  That  Gabriel  will  get  a  place  at  a  San  Francisco  bank  to 
learn  the  banking  business,  and  they  will  live  with  us,  so  you 
and  Lizzie  will  be  together." 

"Oh!  Clarence,  is  that  so?  Oh!  you  make  me  so  glad! 
How  can  I  ever  thank  you?" 

"Haven't  you  said  that  you  love  me?  Haven't  you  prom 
ised  to  marry  me,  and  thus  make  me  the  happiest  man  upon 
the  entire  face  of  all  this  earth?  That  is  enough  for  thanks. 
But  for  telling  you  the  news  I  want  to  be  paid  extra" 

Mercedes  blushed  crimson. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  245 

'I  am  going  to  town  now,  to  be  away  a  long  time;  won't 
you  give  me  one  single  kiss  to  say  good-by?" 

"Must  you  go?  Why  don't  you  write  your  letters  or  tele 
grams  and  send  them  from  here?"  t 

"  Because  I  may  have  to  answer  some  dispatches  immedi 
ately.  Or  it  is  possible  that  Hubert  might  have  run  down  to 
see  me  for  a  few  hours.  To-morrow  is  steamer  day." 

"  Then  this  will  be  a  good  chance  to  send  up  your  photo 
graph  I  want  to  have  enlarged  and  painted." 

"Yes;  give  it  to  me;  I'll  send  it  up." 

"I'll  bring  it,"  she  said,  going  to  the  parlor.  He  followed 
her.  He  closed  the  door,  saying: 

"Now,  one  sweet  kiss  to  give  me  good  luck  and  bring  me 
back  all  safe.  P-1-e-a-s-e  don't  refuse  it." 

"Oh,  Clarence!  Mamma  don't  approve  of  such  things,  and 
I  don't  either.  You  are  not  my  husband  yet,"  she  pleaded,  but 
in  vain,  for  he  had  put  his  arm  around  her  and  was  holding 
her  close  to  his  heart. 

"I  am  not  your  husband  yet?  Yes  I  am.  In  intention  I 
have  been  ever  since  January,  1872.  More  than  two  years, 
and,  in  fact,  I  shall  be  in  two  weeks.  So  you  see  how  cruel  it 
is  to  be  so  distant." 

"Do  you  call  this  distant,  holding  me  so  close?"  For  sole 
answer  he  looked  into  her  eyes,  kissed  her  forehead  and  blush 
ing  cheeks,  then  he  kissed  the  heavily  fringed  eyelids,  kept 
partly  closed,  afraid  to  meet  the  radiant  gaze  of  his  expressive 
eyes.  Then  he  put  his  lips  to  hers  and  held  them  there  in  a 
long  kiss  of  the  purest,  truest  love.  "My  darling!  My  wife! 
My  own  for  ever!  The  sweetest,  loveliest  angel  of  my  soul !" 

No  doubt  he  would  have  been  willing  to  hold  her  thus  close 
to  his  heart  for  hours,  but  she  disengaged  herself  from  his  em 
brace  with  gentle  firmness.  Such  warm  caresses  she  intuitive 
ly  felt  must  be  improper  in  the  highest  degree,  even  on  the 
eve  of  marriage.  No  lady  could  allow  them  without  surren 
dering  her  dignity.  That  was  the  effect  of  Dona  Josefa's  doc 
trines,  which  she  had  carefully  inculcated  into  the  minds  of 
her  daughters. 


246  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Well,  I  hope  that  at  last  you  have  kissed  me  enough,"  said 
Mercedes,  rather  resentfully. 

"Never  enough,  but  I  hope  sufficiently  to  give  me  good 
luck,"  answered  the  happy  Clarence. 

"Oh,  Clarence,  that  reminds  me  of  my  horrible  dream  of 
last  night.  I  dreamed  that  papa  went  to  look  for  you  in  the 
midst  of  a  snow  storm  and  never  came  back.  You  returned, 
but  he  never  did." 

"You  must  not  believe  in  dreams,  dearest." 
"I  do  not,  but  this  seemed  prophetic  to  me." 
"Prophetic  of  a  snow  storm  in  San  Diego?" 
"The  snow  was  symbolic  of  bereavement,  perhaps." 
She  rested  her  head  on  his  shoulder  and  seemed  lost  in 
thought,  and  he  held  the  little  hand,  so  soft  and  white  and  well 
shaped,  and  thought  of  her  beauty  and  lovely  qualities  and  his 
coming  happiness.     He  was  thinking  that  he  would  have  been 
content  to  pass  the  day  thus,  when  she  raised  her  eyes  to  his, 
saying: 

"I  must  not  keep  you  if  you  must  go.  Remember  how  su 
perstitious  my  dream  has  made  me.  I  wish  you  could  wait 
until  to-morrow." 

"I  would,  but  Hubert  might  come  to-morrow." 
"I  had  forgotten  that."     One  more  long  kiss  and  they  part 
ed,  her  heart  sinking  under  a  load  of  undefined  terrors. 

From  the  seventh  heaven  Clarence  had  to  come  down  again 
to  prosaic  earth;  and  after  bidding  adieu  to  Mercedes,  he 
drove  back  home  to  speak  to  his  father.  The  old  man  was 
sitting  in  his  easy  chair  on  the  porch,  smoking  his  pipe,  alone, 
behind  the  curtain  of  honeysuckle,  white  jasmine  and  roses,  so 
carefully  trained  over  the  porch  by  Mrs.  Darrell  and  Alice. 
Seeing  his  son  driving  back  towards  the  front  steps,  he  walked 
down  to  meet  him.  Clarence  was  glad  that  he  seemed  in  a 
better  humor.  He  at  once  said: 

"Father,  I  came  back  to  ask  a  favor  of  you." 
"A  favor?     You  alarm  me.     You  never  did  that  in  all  your 
life,"  he  said,  smiling. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  247 

"You  mean  I  never  did  anything  else.  I  know  it.  But  this 
is  a  very  especial  one,  and  a  business  favor." 

"Let  us  hear  it.  Of  course  I'll  do  anything  I  can  for  you 
or  any  other  of  my  children." 

"Thanks,  father.  The  favor  is  this.  That  in  talking  with 
the  settlers — especially  those  who  have  been  most  ready  to 
shoot  the  Don's  cattle — that  you  tell  them  I  have  bought  all 
his  stock  and  all  will  be  driven  to  the  Colorado  river  just  as 
soon  as  cold  weather  sets  in.  I  don't  think  many  of  the  set 
tlers  like  me  any  better  than  they  like  the  Don,  but  if  they 
think  they  might  displease  you  by  killing  your  son's  cattle  they 
might  spare  the  poor  animals." 

"I'll  do  it.  I  expect  Mathews  and  Miller  now.  They  sent 
me  word  they  are  coming  to  bring  me  some  special  news  as 
soon  as  Gasbang  returns  from  town.  But  have  you  really  and 
truly  bought  the  stock?  or  is  it  only  to — 

"I  have  made  a  bona  fide  purchase;  five  hundred  head  are 
already  at  the  mine,  and  as  soon  as  the  hot  weather  is  over, 
the  others  will  follow.  I  must  buy  cattle  somewhere,  for  we 
have  to  feed  five  hundred  men  now  at  work,  and  as  the  Don 
is  losing  his  all  the  time,  I  proposeed  to  him  to  sell  all  to  me.'{ 

"But  what  is  he  to  do  with  his  land  ?  Queer  that  he  should 
sell  his  cattle  when  he  gets  his  land.  Doesn't  he  believe  he'll 
get  rid  of  us — the  squatters?" 

"O  yes,  but  he  figures  thus :  If  the  Texas  Pacific  is  built,  it 
will  pay  better  to  sell  his  land  in  farming  lots;  if  not,  he  can 
restock  it  when  he  gets  rid  of  his  troublesome  neighbors." 

"He  has  more  sense  than  I  gave  him  credit  for.  I  guess 
you  put  him  up  to  that  dodge." 

"No  indeed.  He  thought  it  himself,  but  it  seems  that  Ga 
briel  and  George  thought  the  same  thing  at  the  same  time, 
and  as  I  was  thinking  where  I  could  get  cattle  for  my  mines, 
it  struck  me  I  might  buy  his  and  suit  us  both." 

"All  right.  I'll  speak  to  the  settlers,  but  of  course  I  cannot 
promise  that  they  will  do  what  I  ask." 

"I  understand  that.     Many  thanks.     Good-by." 

"When  will  you  return?" 


248  THE  SQUATTER  AND  THE  DON 

"To-morrow."  and  he  was  off  at  a  tearing  speed  for  his 
horses  were  tired  "of  waiting,  and  longed  to  be  on  the  road. 

There  was  a  little  array o  which  passed  about  500  yards  on 
the  west  of  Don  Mariano's  house  and  marked  the  west  line  of 
Darrell's  land;  as  Clarence  approached  this  dried  brook,  he 
saw  Gasbang  and  Roper  coming  down  from  the  opposite  hill, 
evidently  unable  to  check  their  horses.  Roper  was  so  intoxi: 
cated  that  he  could  with  difficulty  keep  his  seat,  and  as  Gasbang 
seemed  much  frightened,  Clarence  took  his  phaeton  well  off 
the  road  and  waited  so  as  to  lend  his  assistance,  if  it  should  be 
required.  But  "the  kind  Providence  which  takes  care  of 
drunken  sailors,  children  and  the  United  States,"  was  watchful 
of  Roper,  and  though  he  swayed  and  swung  beyond  possible 
equilibrium,  he  stuck  to  his  seat  with  drunken  gravity. 

"Going  to  invest  in  more  real  estate?"  Gasbang  shouted  as 
soon  as  he  felt  reassured  by  passing  the  great  danger  of  sand 
and  pebbles  which  his  cowardice  had  magnified  to  him  into  a 
precipice.  Roper  laughed  heartily,  but  Clarence,  not  under 
standing  the  allusion,  made  no  answer  and  drove  on  without 
looking  at  them.  If  a  kind  fairy  could  have  whispered  to  him 
what  was  the  errand  of  these  two  men,  he  most  assuredly  would 
have  turned  back.  There  being  no  fairy  but  the  blue-eyed 
one  who  had  already  told  her  dreams  and  fears,  wh  ch  he  had 
not  believed,  he  went  on  to  town,  and  Gasbang  took  Roper 
to  his  house,  carefully  putting  him  to  bed  to  take  a  nap  that 
would  sober  him  before  he  spoke  with  Darrell;  for  it  was  to 
speak  with  Darrell  that  he  came. 

While  Roper  slept,  Gasbang  went  to  see  Mathews,  Miller  and 
Hughes,  and  together  they  held  a  consultation,  at  the  end  of 
which  it  was  decided  that,  as  Roper  was  too  intoxicated  yet, 
and  Darrell  disliked  drunkards,  they  would  go  ,and  have  a  pre 
liminary  talk  with  him  themselves,  and  Roper  would  be  pressed 
into  service,  if  advisable,  in  the  morning,  when  he  would  be  sober. 

Darrell  had  got  tired  of  waiting  for  Mathews ;  so,  after  think 
ing  of  what  Clarence  had  said,  he  decided  that  it  would  be 
better  to  have  a  talk  with  Hancock  and  Pitikin,  who  were  about 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  249 

the  most  reliable  of  all  the  settlers.  They  perhaps  knew  what 
it  was  that  Mathews  had  to  say.  He  told  Webster  to  saddle  a 
horse  and  bring  it  around;  he  would  go  on  horseback,  as  the 
wagon  road  to  Hancock's  was  very  long,  around  the  fields. 

But  now  when  Webster  had  brought  the  saddled  horse  to  the 
front  steps,  Darrell  saw  Mathews,  Gasbang,  Miller  and  Hughes 
coming  in  a  two-seated  wagon,  and  all  seemed  to  be  talking 
very  excitedly. 

"Tie  the  horse  there.  I'll  wait  for  those  men,"  said  Darrell, 
sitting  down  again.  Webster  did  as  he  was  told,  and  then 
walked  straight  up-stairs  to  his  mother's  room.  Everett  and 
Alice  were  with  her. 

"  Mother,  if  I  were  you,  I  would  go  and  sit  in  the  parlor  and 
do  my  sewing  there  by  the  windows  on  the  piazza,  while  those 
bad  men  are  talking  to  father,"  Webster  said. 

"Why,  Webster,  go  and  listen  unseen!"  Mrs.  Darrell  ex 
claimed. 

"Certainly,  and  do  it  quickly,  for  those  old  imps  mean  mis 
chief  to  Clarence." 

"To  Clarence!"  exclaimed  Alice  and  her  mother  at  the 
same  time. 

"Yes,  mother,  Web.  might  be  right.  You  might  just  be  in 
time  to  unmask  some  lie  against  Clary,"  Everett  suggested. 

"One  thing  is  sure,  that  those  men  already  have  too  much 
influence  over  father,  and  we  have  done  nothing  to  oppose  it," 
Alice  said.  Mrs.  Darrell  was  silent,  then,  looking  at  her  chil- 
, dren,  said: 

"You  might  be  right,  my  children,  but  that  would  not  justify 
my  listening  at  the  keyhole."  Everett  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
saying: 

"All  right,  mother.  Come  on,  Web."  And  both  boys  left 
the  room.  When  they  were  out,  Everett  said:  "Web,  get  a 
horse  saddled  and  tie  him  at  the  back  porch  for  me.  I  am 
going  to  listen  from  Jane's  room;  one  of  her  windows  is  right 
over  those  men.  If  what  I  hear  makes  it  necessary  for  me  to 
see  Clarence,  I  shall  go  to  town.  Get  a  horse  saddled  immedi 
ately  and  come  to  me." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
THE  SQUATTER  AND  THE  DON. 

Everett  found  Lucy  in  Jane's  room.  Both  were  sewing  by 
the  window  he  wanted.  He  squeezed  himself  into  a  seat  be 
tween  his  sisters,  saying: 

" Girls,  I  want  to  hear.     Hush!     Listen!" 

Voices  were  heard  below.  All  listened.  As  Webster  was 
coming  down  stairs  he  saw  John  Gasbang  going  out  at  the 
other  end  of  the  parlor,  pushing  a  large  arm-chair  out  upon 
the  porch.  He  heard  them  laughing  at  some  of  Gasba'ng's 
coarse,  vulgar  jokes,  and  then  all  sat  down.  After  some  desul 
tory  talk,  Mathews,  evidently  anxious  to  begin  at  what  they  had 
to  state,  said: 

"I  am  afraid,  neighbor  Darrell,  that  somebody  has  been 
fooling  you  and  laughing  at  you,  or  if  not,  then  the  thing  will 
look  as  if  you  yourself  had  been  fooling  us  and  laughing  at  us. 
This  we  can  hardly  believe." 

"We  don't  believe  at  all,"  Hughes  explained,  seeing  Dar- 
rell's  brow  darken. 

Jane's  window  was  possessed  of  most  favorable  acoustic 
qualities.  Every  word  could  be  distinctly  heard. 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  says  Darrell,  gruffly.  "I  am  not 
given  to  joking  or  laughing  much,  and  I  never  knew  that  any 
body  dared  to  laugh  at  me." 

"Precisely!"  Hughes  exclaimed,  bowini;  deferentially. 

"Did  you  ever  give  us  to  understand  that  this  land  you 
occupy  you  had  bought  and  paid  for?"  Mathews  asked. 

"No.  I  said  to  the  Don  I  would  pay  when  the  title  is  settled; 
that's  all.  You  all  heard  that." 

"But  you  never  paid  him  any  money?" 


THE    SQUAT1ER    AND    THE    DON.  251 

"Not  a  red  cent.  But  see  here,  what  do  you  mean  by  coming 
here  to  catechise  me?  You  don't  know  William  Darrell,  if  you 
think  you  can  set  a  trap  for  him  in  this  way.  I  tell  you  he  would 
kick  your  crap  to  the  old  'Nick'  in  two  minutes,"  Darrell  said, 
getting  white  with  anger. 

"  I  know  it,"  Gasbang  said,  shaking  with  laughter. 

"  Stop  your  nonsense,"  Darrell  said  to  him;  then  to  Mathews, 
"Speak  out  like  a  man — what  is  it  all  about?" 

"That  we  are  told  that  it  is  recorded  that  you  paid  six  thou 
sand  four  hundred  dollars  to  the  Don  for  six  hundred  and  forty 
acres  of  land,"  Miller  explained. 

"When  did  I  do  that?"  Darrell  asked,  with  increasing  palor, 
the  sight  of  which  his  interlocutor  did  not  relish. 

"On  the  1 3th  day  of  February,  1872,"  Gasbang  replied. 

"Who  saw  the  record?" 

"I  did.     I  saw  the  entry  made  by  the  notary." 

"Well,  the  notary  lies,  that's  all." 

"He  couldn't.  He  could  be  prosecuted  for  it,"  Miller 
saicf. 

"Very  well,  he  shall  be;  for  it  is  a  lie  that  I  bought  any 
such  land  or  paid  any  such  price  for  it." 

"Perhaps  the  Don  had  the  entry  made,"  Hughes  sug 
gested. 

"Then  the  Don  lied,  and  I'll  tell  him  so,"  Darrell  re 
torted. 

"Are  you  sure  that  Mr.  Clarence  did  not  buy  the  land  un 
beknown  to  you?"  Mathews  asked. 

"What  do  you  mean,  sir  ?  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  my  own 
son  would  put  me  in  such  a  ridiculous  position  ?  No,  I  think  it  is 
more  likely  that,  as  Hughes  says,  the  Don  had  the  false  entry 
made  on  the  strength  of  my  having  promised  to  pay  him  for 
the  land  I  would  take.  £ut  I'll  teach  him  that  I  am  not  to 
be  dragged  into  a  bargain  like  that." 

"What  would  the  Don  gain  by  that?  Nothing.  No,  if  you 
will  not  be  offended,  I'll  tell  you  what  I  heard  is  the  most  likely 
theory  of  it  all,"  Gasbang  began. 


252  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

•'And  who  in  the  devil  has  been  building  theories  on  my 
affairs?  I'd  like  to  see  the  fellow  who  does  that,"  thundered 
Darrell. 

"It  was  my  lawyer,  who  casually  discovered  that  entry  in 
the  notary's  books,  and  told  me  of  it.  He  meant  no  harm," 
Gasbang  explained,  with  conciliatory  amiability. 

"Of  course,  he  meant  no  harm.  Lawyers  of  the  Peter  Ro 
per  stamp  never  do.  When  they  go  sticking  their  noses  into 
people's  business,  they  do  so  casually.  And  your  lawyer — Mr. 
Roper,  I  suppose — being  a  very  innocent  and  straightforward 
and  honorable,  high-toned  man,  who  never  gets  drunk,  he  did 
not  mean  any  harm,  and  accidentally,  purely  so,  made  this  dis 
covery,  and  no  danger  of  his  having  been  too  drunk  to  read 
straight,  either.  Look  here,  John,  don't  you  talk  to  me  as  if 
you  thought  me  idiotic,  for  I  am  not.  But  what  is  this  inno 
cent  theory  of  this  unsophisticated,  honorable  Peter  Roper? 
Let  us  see." 

"  Well,  he  thinks  that  Mr.  Clarence  being  in  love  with  the 
Don's  daughter,  probably  bought  the  land  to  propitiate  the 
family,  and  dated  back  the  deed  of  sale,"  Gasbang  said. 

Darrell  was  silent,  but  shook  his  head. 

"You  see,  the  Don  could  have  had  no  object  in  putting  on 
record  that  he  had  received  six  thousand  four  hundred  dollars, 
unless  he  did  so."  said  Miller. 

"So  you  think  he  received  the  money?"  Darrell  asked. 

"No  doubt  of  it,"  all  the  others  answered. 

"  There  he  goes  now,"  said  Hughes,  and  all  could  see  the 
Don  riding  towards  home,  accompanied  by  his  two  sons.  Be 
hind  them  the  vaqueros  were  driving  a  lot  of  cattle  towards 
the  "  corral"  at  the  back  of  the  house. 

Seeing  the  cattle,  Darrell  said:  "By  the  way,  these  cattle 
now  belong  to  Clarence.  He  bought  every  head  on  this 
rancho  belonging  to  the  Don,  and  will  drive  them  to  the  Col 
orado  River  as  soon  as  the  weather  cools  off.  So  I  hope  that 
if  any  stray  cows  or  calves  come  up  to  your  places  you  will 
corral  them  and  send  me  word.  I  ask  this  of  all  of  you,  as  a 
favor  to  me,  not  to  Clarence." 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  253 

"Certainly!    certainly!"  said  Hughes,  Miller  and  Gasbang. 

"Will  it  be  too  much  trouble  to  do  that?"  Darrell  asked 
Mathews,  who  had  remained  silent. 

He  was  compelled  to  reply:  "Of  course  not — not  for 
you." 

"  Well,  you  see,  I  ask  only  what  the  law  gives." 

"I  know  that." 

"And  Clarence  knows  that  if  his  cattle  go  to  your  fields  you 
must  corral  them  and  give  him  notice.  And  now  I  want  to 
go  and  speak  with  the  Don. " 

All  arose. 

Hughes  said:  "As  we  all  wish  to  know  more  about  that 
land  sale,  we  will  come  back  this  evening  to  hear  what  the 
Don  says." 

"Very  well.     I  am  going  to  ask  all  he  knows  about  it." 

"He  knows  everything,  the  greaser!"  Mathews  growled. 

"But  you  think  Clarence  paid  the  money?"  asked  Darrell. 

"Of  course  he  did,  to  get  the  girl,"  laughed  Gasbang;  then 
added  :  "  It  was  all  a  put-up  job,  and  they  kept  the  secret  well, 
so  we  never  smelled  the  rat,  while  they  laughed  at  us.  But  I 
don't  care  so  long  as  you,  Mr.  Darrell,  wasn't  in  it." 

"  So  says  I,"  added  Miller. 

"And  I,"  said  Hughes,  and  they  drove  off,  laughing. 

Darrell  remained  standing  on  the  front  steps.  He  ground 
his  teeth  and  clenched  his  fists  as  he  heard  the  laughter  from 
the  wagon,  which  sounded  louder  as  the  wagon  went  further 
away.  He  walked  to  the  stable  and  took  a  heavy  whip,  one  of 
those  which  teamsters  call  "black  snakes,"  which  are  used 
to  drive  mules  with.  The  old  man  trembled  with  suppressed 
anger,  so  much  that  he  could  not  fasten  on  his  spurs,  and  this 
only  increased  the  more  his  senseless  rage. 

Everett  was  scarcely  less  angry  or  less  pale.  He  was  wait 
ing  for  his  father  to  start,  to  follow  him.  Webster  came  up 
stairs  and  said  to  him  : 

"Retty,  father  means  mischief.  He  has  a  'black  snake,' and 
trembles  with  rage  as  if  he  had  the  ague." 


254  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

"Poor  father,  how  unfortunate  it  is  that  he  got  into  such 
a  wrong  train  of  reasoning,"  Jane  said. 

"He  is  bound  to  keep  wrong  as  long  as  he  permits  such 
men  to  influence  him.  I  am  ashamed  of  father,"  Lucy 
added. 

"No,  don't  say  that,"  Jane  begged. 

"But  I  am,"  Lucy  maintained •   "very  much  ashamed." 

"And  I  also — bitterly  ashamed,"  Everett  said. 

The  old  gentleman  at  last  succeeded  in  fastening  his 
spurs  and  getting  on  his  horse.  He  trotted  off  to  meet  the 
Don.  Everett  and  Webster  went  down  stairs.  Webster  had 
saddled  two  horses;  he  was  not  going  to  let  Everett  go  alone, 
when  he  might  need  help.  So  the  two  boys  followed  their 
father  at  a  short  distance. 

Lucy  and  Jane  went  to  Clarence's  room,  from  which  they 
had  a  better  view  of  that  part  of  the  valley  through  which 
passed  the  main  road,  in  front  of  the  Alamar  house.  They 
saw  their  father  take  the  main  road.  The  Don  was  coming 
slowly  with  his  two  sons,  watching  the  vaqueros  driving  the 
cattle  up  the  hill. 

"Mamma,  see  father  going  to  meet  the  Don.  What  does 
he  mean?"  exclaimed  Alice,  alarmed. 

Mrs.  Darrell  went  to  the  window,  and  both  sat  there  to  watch 
proceedings. 

Two  or  three  head  of  catlle  got  separated,  and  Gabriel 
turned  back  at  a  few  paces  to  head  them  off.  Don  Mariano 
and  Victoriano  kept  on,  and  soon  after  met  Darrell. 

"Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Darrell,"  said  Don  Mariano,  pleas 
antly.  "You  see  we  are  Clarence's  vaqueros  now." 

Darrell  muttered  something  gruffly,  and  stopped  his  horse 
in  the  middle  of  the  road.  The  others  did  the  same.  Don 
Mariano  saw  that  Darrell  was  very  angry,  and  waited  for  him 
to  speak  first. 

The  enraged  man  gasped  twice,  but  no  sound  came.  On 
the  third  effort  his  harsh  tones  said: 

"I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  is  all  this  trickery  and  lies  about 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  255 

my  having  paid  you  six  thousand  four  hundred  dollars  for 
land.  You  know  that  to  be  a  lie." 

"Of  course  I  do.  You  never  paid  me  a  cent,  nor  the  other 
settlers  either.  No  settler  wants  to  pay,  and  I  never  said  you 
had,  or  expected  they  would,  for  I  know  they  believe  them 
selves  authorized  by  law  to  appropriate  my  property." 

"Didn't  Clarence  pay  you  for  the  land  I  took?" 

"  Look  here,  Mr.  Darrell,  business  matters  between  Clar 
ence  and  myself  are  not  to  be  mentioned,  and  unless  he 
authorizes  me  to  speak  I  cannot  repeat  anything  which  he 
wishes  to  keep  quiet." 

"Then  you  have  some  private  business  together." 

Don  Mariano  bowed,  but  did  not  speak.  Darrell  came 
closer  to  the  Don,  and  shaking  at  him  the  fist  in  which  he 
held  the  whip,  said: 

"Then  I  tell  you,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to 
be  bargaining  with  my  son  in  a  clandestine  manner,  fooling 
me,  and  making  me  appear  ridiculous.  But  I  tell  you  to 
your  face — for  I  am  not  a  sneaking  coward — I  tell  you, 
that  you  have  acted  most  dishonorably,  inveigling  Clarence 
into  bargains  unbeknown  to  me,  inducing  him,  with  seductive 
bribes,  to  act  most  dishonorably  towards  me." 

"What  were  those  bribes?"  Don  Mariano  asked. 

"What  were  they?     Your  daughter's  pretty  looks,  by  G — !" 

"Oh,  father!"  exclaimed  Everett,  turning  very  pale. 

"Pshaw!  That  is  too  low,"  the  Don  said,  turning  his  horse 
towards  his  house. 

Darrell  spurred  his  and  stood  in  the  way. 

"Too  low,  you  say?  And  isn't  it  low  to  act  as  you  have? 
And  now  you  want  to  sneak  off  like  a  coward,  and  not  give  me 
any  satisfaction." 

"  I  am  ready  to  give  you  any  satisfaction  you  want,  but  de 
mand  it  like  a  gentleman.  I  am  no  Peter  Roper,  or  Gasbang, 
or  Billy  Mathews,  to  have  a  tumble -down  fist-fight  in  the  dirt 
with  you.  If  you  forget  your  dignity,  I  do  not,"  the  Don  re 
plied,  again  trying  to  go  towards  his  house. 


256  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

Darrell  again  placed  his  horse  in  front  to  intercept  his  road, 
and  said,  livid  with  rage  : 

"And  why  didn't  you  think  of  your  dignity  when  you  pa 
raded  your  daughter  (like  a  pretty  filly  for  sale)  before  my  son, 
to  get  his  money!  Damn  you!  can't  I  make  you  fight?  Won't 
you  be  insulted,  you  coward?  I'll  publish  your  cowardice  all 
over  California." 

So  saying,  he  lifted  his  whip  and  struck  a  severe  blow  at  the 
Don.  Quickly,  at  the  same  instant,  Victoriano  and  Everett 
had  dashed  their  horses  between,  and  the  blow  fell  right  upon 
the  backs  of  the  two  young  men. 

This  act  of  devotion  was  scarcely  necessary,  for  as  Darrell 
lifted  his  whip,  and  before  it  fell  down,  Don  Mariano  touched 
his  horse  with  one  spur  only,  giving  a  quick  touch  to  the  reins 
to  one  side.  The  horse  jumped  aside,  sat  on  his  haunches 
for  an  instant,  half-crouching,  half-rearing,  and  in  a  second  he 
was  up  again.  Don  Mariano  smiled  at  Darrell's  clumsy 
horsemanship,  conscious  of  being  able  to  ride  him  down  and 
all  around  him  before  the  belligerent  squatter  could  tell  what 
was  happening.  Still  smiling,  the  Don  rode  slowly  away. 
Darrell  followed  close,  and  again  lifted  his  whip  to  strike,  but 
instantaneously  he  felt  as  if  he  had  been  struck  by  lightning, 
or  as  if  an  aerolite  had  fallen  upon  him.  His  arm  fell  powerless 
by  his  side,  and  an  iron  hoop  seemed  to  encircle  him.  He 
looked  down  to  his  breast  surprised,  and  there  the  coil  of  a 
reata  held  him  in  an  iron  grip,  and  he  could  not  move.  He 
looked  about  him  amazed,  and  saw  that  the  other  end  of  the 
reata  was  neatly  wound  around  the  pommel  of  Gabriel's  sad 
dle,  and  that  young  gentleman  sat  quietly  on  his  horse,  as  if 
waiting  Mr.  Darrell's  orders  to  move,  his  handsome  face  a 
little  pale,  but  quite  composed. 

"Go  home  and  bring  me  my  pistols,  Webster.  I'll  fix  this 
brood  of  greasers,"  said  Darrell,  half  choked  with  rage  and  the 
tight  embrace  of  the  reata. 

Webster  hesitated,  and  looked  towards  his  brother  for  ad 
vice.  Everett  winked,  and  Webster  understood  at  once  that 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  257 

Everett  meant  that  he  should  go,  but  bring  no  pistols.  He 
galloped  off  towards  home. 

The  horse  that  Darrell  was  riding  was  the  mate  of  the  one 
that  Webster  rode,  so  that  when  he  saw  his  partner  go  off 
towards  home,  he  thought  he  must  do  the  same,  arid  followed. 
As  the  reins  hung  loosely  upon  his  neck,  he  naturally  sup 
posed  that  he  was  to  follow  at  the  pace  his  companion  went, 
so  he  started  at  a  gallop  to  catch  up  with  Webster. 

Thus  now  began  a  most  ridiculous  steeple-chase  going 
home.  Darrell  could  not  check  his  horse  or  do  anything  but 
hold  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  his  arms  being  pinioned  to 
his  body.  Gabriel,  fearing  to  let  go  the  reata,  which,  if 
loosened,  might  entangle  the  horse,  and  thus  pull  the  old  man 
off  his  saddle,  followed,  maintaining  the  reata  at  an  even, 
gentle  tension,  carefully  keeping  at  the  same  distance.  Vic- 
toriano  and  Everett  saw  nothing  to  do  but  follow,  trying  to  get 
near  Darrell  to  catch  him  in  case  he  should  lose  his  balance 
going  over  the  rough  ground  of  the  plowed  field. 

The  two  Indian  vaqueros,  after  putting  their  cattle  in  the 
corral,  came  down  to  inquire  for  further  orders,  and -seeing 
the  race  going  on,  they  thought  they  could  join  in,  too.  So, 
putting  spurs  to  their  horses,  they  began  to  run  and  shout  in 
high  glee.  Noticing  that  the  patron,  Don  Gabriel,  held  a 
reata  in  his  hands,  the  lazo  end  of  which  was  attached  to 
Darrell,  they  thought  that  for  sport  Don  Gabriel  had  thrown 
the  lazo  on  the  old  squatter.  Having  come  to  this  conclusion, 
they  began  to  shout  and  hurrah  with  renewed  vigor. 

"Apa!  viejo  escuata  6  cabestreas  6  te  orcas,"  cried  one. 

"No  le  afloje  patroncito  Gabriel,"  said  the  other. 

Now  the  ground  being  very  rough,  Darrell  began  to  sway, 
as  if  losing  his  balance. 

"Aprietate  viejo!  aprie'tate  miralo!  ya  se  ladea!"  cried 
again  one  vaquero. 

"Creo  que  el  viejo  escuata  va  chispo,"  said  the  other. 

"Que  es  eso?  A  que  vienen  aca?  Quien  los  convida? 
Callense  la  boca,  no  sean  malcreados,  Vallense!"  said  Victo- 
riano,  turning  to  them  in  great  indignation. 


25^  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

This  rebuke  and  imperative  order  silenced  them  immedi 
ately,  and  not  understanding  why  these  gentlemen  were  having 
all  that  fun,  and  did  not  laugh,  nor  wished  any  one  else  to 
laugh,  quietly  turned  and  went  home. 

Darrell's  horse  now  came  to  a  hollow  made  by  the  old  bed 
of  a  brook  where  the  road  passed  diagonally.  To  gallop 
down  hill  was  too  much  equestrianism  for  the  pinioned  rider; 
he  began  again  to  topple  to  one  side.  Quick  as  a  flash  Victo- 
riano  darted  forward,  and  grasping  the  bridle  with  one  hand, 
caught  with  the  other  the  body  of  Darrell,  which  having  en 
tirely  lost  balance,  was  toppling  over  like  a  log. 

Gabriel  immediately  gathering  the  reata  quickly  in  succes 
sive  loops,  all  of  which  he  hung  on  the  pommel  of  his  saddle, 
came  to  Darrell's  side. 

"  I'll  take  that  lazo  off,  Mr.  Darrell,  if  you  permit  me,"  said 
Gabriel,  very  quietly,  when  Victoriano  had  straightened  him 
on  the  saddle,  and  he  had  again  a  perpendicular  position. 

"Yes,  damn  you,  and  you'll  pay  for  it,  too!"  was  Darrell's 
courteous  reply. 

"Very  well,  but  don't  be  abusive.  Use  better  language; 
and  if  you  want  to  fight  I'll  accomodate  you  whenever  you 
wish,  with  any  weapons,  except  the  tongue,"  Gabriel  an 
swered. 

"I  suppose  you  think  a  lazo  is  a  very  genteel  weapon.  It  is 
good  enough  for  cowardly,  treacherous  greasers,"  said  the  irate 
Darrell,  eager  to  be  as  insulting  as  possible. 

"And  to  subdue  wild  cattle,"  Gabriel  added.  "  I  threw  my 
lazo  on  you  to  keep  you  from  striking  my  father.  He  was  un 
armed,  and  you  made  a  brutal  attack  upon  him  with  a  heavy 
mule  whip.  I  would  lazo  you  again  fifty  times,  or  any  other 
man,  under  the  same  circumstances.  If  you  think  it  was  cow 
ardly  to  do  so,  I  will  prove  to  you  at  any  time  that  I  was  not 
prompted  by  cowardice.  Victoriano,  loosen  the  reata  off  Mr. 
Darrell's  arms." 

Victoriano  dismounted,  and  endeavored  to  loosen  the  tight 
noose,  but  it  was  so  firmly  drawn  that  he  could  not  move  it. 
Everett  came  to  his  assistance,  but  he,  too,  failed. 


THE   SQUATTER    AND   THE   DON.  259 

"I  cannot  loosen  the  noose  without  hurting  Mr.  Darrell," 
said  Victoriano,  giving  up  the  task. 

Gabriel  dismounted,  and  examined  the  noose  carefully.  He 
shook  his  head,  saying  : 

"No,  sir;  we  cannot  loosen  that  reata  while  you  are  sitting 
down.  We  will  have  to  put  you  on  your  feet,  Mr.  Darrell, 
and  you  will  be  slimmer  then.  Thus  by  collapsing  a  little  the 
loop  will  lose  the  tension  that  keeps  it  tight." 

"Come  on,  Mr.  Darrell,  Retty  and  I  will  let  you  down 
nicely,"  said  Victoriano. 

"Lean  on  me,  father,"  said  Everett,  but  as  he  held  up  his 
arms  towards  his  father,  he  became  convulsed  with  laughter. 
Victoriano  was  laughing,  too,  so  heartily,  that  Darrell  was  afraid 
to  trust  his  weight  into  their  hands. 

'.'For  shame,  Victoriano,  to  be  so  discourteous,"  said  Ga 
briel,  reprovingly  —his  handsome  features  perfectly  serious. 

But  Victoriano  had  suppressed  his  desire  to  laugh  too  long, 
and  now  his  risibility  was  beyond  control.  Everett  was  over 
come  in  the  same  manner,  so  that  he  hung  on  Victoriano's 
shoulder,  shaking  with  ill-suppressed  laughter. 

"  Mr.  Darrell,  be  not  afraid  to  trust  to  my  strength/  I  am 
slender,  but  I  am  stronger  than  I  look.  Lean  your  weight  on 
me  slowly,  and  I'll  take  you  off  your  horse  while  those  boys 
laugh,"  Gabriel  said,  putting  up  his  hands  for  Darrell  to  lean 
on  them. 

"I  think  we  had  better  go  home  first,"  he  said. 

"No,  sir.  It  will  be  painful  for  Mrs.  Darrell  to  see  you  as 
you  are,  and  then  you  ought  to  have  that  reata  off  now,  quick 
ly.  It  will  sicken  you." 

"Yes,  I  feel  a  very  strange  sort  of  cold  feeling." 

Gabriel  was  afraid  that  impeded  circulation  might  make  the 
old  man  faint,  so  he  said  : 

"Come,  Mr.  Darrell,  quick." 

He  slipped  off  one  stirrup,  then  quickly  went  around 
'slipped  off  the  other,  and  pulled  Darrell  to  him  gently.  Down 
like  a  felled  tree  came  the  old  fighter,  almost  bearing  Gabriel 


260  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

down  to  the  ground,  Everett  and  Victoriano,  checking  their 
laughter  somewhat,  lent  their  assistance  to  hold  him  up,  and 
as  he  had  begun  to  look  bluish,  they  saw  the  necessity  of  es 
tablishing  the  old  man's  circulation.  While  Everett  and 
Victoriano  held  him  up,  Gabriel  loosened  the  coil,  rubbing 
briskly  and  hard  the  benumbed  arms  to  start  circulation  by 
friction,  moving  them  up  and  down. 

"Can  you  get  on  your  horse  now?"-  Gabriel  asked,  after 
Darrell  had  moved  his  arms  several  times. 

"Yes,  I  think  I  can,"  he  said,  looking  towards  his  house.  A 
new  shadow  passed  over  his  face. 

Webster  was  coming  back,  leading  his  horse.  Would  he 
bring  pistols  ?  No.  His  mother  was  walking  with  him. 
Mrs.  Darrell  saluted  the  Alamares,  and  they  lifted  their  hats 
respectfully  in  response.  Webster  had  told  her  all  that  had 
happened,  and  she  understood  everything,  excepting  the 
steeple-chase  performance.  She  had  seen  all  running  behind 
her  husband,  but  she  did  not  know  that  the  chase  was  most 
involuntary  on  his  part.  Seeing  them  stop  for  so  long  a  time 
in  the  hollow  she  thought  he  had  fallen. 

"What  is  the  matter,  William?     Did  you  fall  ?" 

"No.  And  if  I  had,  you  couldn't  pick  me  up.  What  did 
you  come  out  here  for?"  was  the  characteristic  answer. 

"  Because,  not  seeing  you  when  down  in  this  hollow  I  feared 
you  were  hurt,  but  since  it  is  only  foolish  anger  that  ails  you,  I 
need  not  waste  my  sympathy,"  she  said  in  her  sweet,  low 
voice — which  Clarence  insisted  always  was  like  Mercedes'  voice, 
having  that  same  musical  vibration,  so  pleasing  to  the  ear  and 
sure  to  go  straight  to  the  heart. 

"Mrs.  Darrell,  allow  me  to  assure  you  that  all  this  trouble 
came  most  unexpectedly  to  us.  We  don't  know  what  caused  it, 
but  no  matter  what  the  cause  may  be,  I  certainly  could  do 
nothing  else  than  prevent  anybody  from  striking  my  father," 
Gabriel  said. 

"Certainly,  Don  Gabriel,  you  did  your  duty.  I  do  not  blame 
you — no  one  of  you — at  all.  Express  my  regrets  to  your 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  261 

father,  please.  I  am  grieved  to  the  heart  about  this,"  she 
said,  and  there  was  a  sad  note  in  her  tones,  which  plainly  told 
that  her  expressions  of  regret  were  but  too  true. 

"I  will  tell  my  father  what  you  say,  and  let  us  hope  that  the 
cause  of  all  this  misunderstanding  may  be  explained,"  Gabriel 
replied. 

"  I  hope  so,"  she  said,  offering  her  hand  to  him,  which  hs 
took  and  pressed  warmly. 

When  Darrell  saw  that  friendly  demonstration,  he  turned  his 
back  upon  all,  and  muttering  that  he  was  "to  be  made  the 
scape-goat  of  all,"  walked  home. 

Mrs.  Darrell  then  asked  Gabriel  to  explain  everything  to 
her,  which  he  did,  while  she  listened  to  him  very  atten 
tively. 

"If  you  only  had  heard  what  those  squatters  said,  and  pre 
vented  father  from  riding  out,"  Everett  exclaimed. 

Mrs.  Darrell  sighed,  shook  hands  with  the  Alamares,  and, 
followed  by  her  sons,  walked  home 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
MRS.  DARRELL'S  VIEW  OF  OUR  LAND  LAWS. 

Of  all  the  horrible  tortures  that  the  human  mind  is  capable  of 
conjuring  up  with  which  to  torment  itself,  none  was  greater  to 
William  Darrell  than  the  consciousness  of  being  ridiculous — the 
conviction  that  people  were  laughing  at  him.  He  had  seen  Vic- 
toriano  and  his  own  Everett  so  convulsed  with  laughter,  laugh 
ing  at  him,  laughing  in  his  presence,  laughing  so  heartily  that 
they  could  scarcely  stand  up.  This  laughter  of  the  two  boys 
was  the  most  vivid  picture  in  the  panorama  of  living  scenes 
which  he  himself  had  evoked.  Surely  if  his  own  son  laughed 
so  heartily,  everybody  else  would  do  the  same.  And  when  on 
his  return  home,  Clementine  had  said  to  him  most  uncere 
moniously  : 

"Why,  papa,  what  made  you  sit  on  your  horse  so  stiff? 
Why  did  you  want  to  keep  that  rope?  You  looked  so  funny/ 
And  Clementine  laughed  heartily. 

"Get  out  of  my  way,"  said  he,  and  went  to  the  "colony" 
straight  and  banged  the  door;  which  meant  that  he  wanted  no 
one  else  within  the  precincts  of  that  asylum.  "  So  I  looked  funny 
and  stiff;  they  were  all  laughing  at  me,"  he  said,  and  with  a 
groan  of  mental  and  physical  pain,  flung  himself  on  the  lounge. 

Presently,  Tisha  came  to  say  that  supper  was  on  the  table. 
"I  don't  want  any  supper,"  said  he  in  the  gruff  tones- he  used 
when  he  was  angry,  or  pretended  to  be.  Tisha  retired,  but  in 
about  ten  minutes  she  returned,  carrying  a  tray,  which  she 
deposited  on  a  table,  saying: 

"Missus  says  that  mayhap  when  you  rested  awhile  you 
might  feel  a  little  hungry." 

"Give  me  a  cup  of  tea;  I  want  nothing  else,". he  said, 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  263 

and  Tisha  fixed  his  tea  just  as  she  knew  he  liked  it  with  plenty 
of  rich  cream  and  four  lumps  of  sugar,  for  Darrell's  teacup 
held  a  pint;  she  placed  the  tea  on  a  little  table  by  the  lounge 
and  retired. 

The  tea  seemed  to  refresh  him  in  spite  of  himself,  and  he 
accepted  the  improvement  with  an  inward  protest  as  if  setting 
down  an  exception  (as  lawyers  call  it)  by  which  he  renounced 
all  obligation  to  be  grateful. 

Early  the  settlers  began  to  arrive  at  the  "colony"  through  the 
side  door  of  the  back  hall.  Everett  joined  the  meeting,  as 
Romeo  came  to  request  his  company.  Darrell  gave  his  son  a 
withering  look,  but  did  not  speak  to  him.  He  kept  his  reclin 
ing  position  on  the  lounge  and  his  satellites  sat  in  a  semi-circle 
around  him.  He  soon  told  them  he  had  nothing  satisfactory 
to  say,  as  the  Don  had  refused  to  make  any  explanation,  alleg 
ing  that  he  had  promised  Clarence  to  say  nothing.  When 
Clarence  returned  he  would  clear  the  mystery.  The  settlers 
again  recommenced  their  conjectures,  and  discussed  the  mo 
tives  which  must  have  actuated  the  Don  to  make  a  false  entry, 
to  record  having  received  money  which  he  never  got.  Land 
was  the  discussion,  but  there  seemed  no  dissenting  voice  as  to 
the  Don's  culpability,  and  the  sinister  motives  which  actuated 
him  in  acting  in  that  underhand  manner.  When  the  altercation 
was  at  the  highest,  and  could  be  heard  all  over  the  house, 
Mrs.  Darrell  walked  in  and,  bowing  to  the  astonished  squat 
ters,  came  slowly  forward  and  stood  about  the  middle  of  the 
semi-circle,  though  outside  of  it.  Darrell  sat  up  and  all  the 
others  stood  on  their  feet  and  stared  as  if  they  had  seen  some 
Banquo  spectre  or  other  terrible  ghostly  apparition. 

"Be  seated,  gentlemen,  I  beg  of  you.  I  have  but  a  few 
words  to  say.  Please  sit  down,"  she  reiterated,  seeing  that 
every  one  remained  standing. 

Slowly  all  one  by  one  dropped  into  their  seats  and  all  the 
faces  were  turned  towards  her.  No  one  thought  of  offering  her 
a  chair,  and  she  did  not  want  one  either.  When  all  had  re 
sumed  their  seats,  she  said : 


264  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"All  those  amongst  you,  gentlemen,  who  think  that  Don 
Mariano  Alamar  induced  my  son.  Clarence  to  purchase  land 
from  him  are  much  mistaken;  and  all  those  who  think  Don 
Mariano  made  a  false  entry  of  a  land  sale,  do  him  an  in 
justice." 

"Who  made  the  entry  then?"  Darrell  asked,  sharply. 

"That  is  what  I  came  to  say.  The  land  was  bought  and 
paid  for  at  my  request.  If  there  is  any  blame,  or  crime,  or 
guilt  in  the  matter,  /  am  the  criminal — /am  the  guilty  one. 
I  told  my  son,  Clarence  Darrell,  that  if  he  did  not  pay  for  the 
land  which  his  father  had  located,  I  would  never,  never  come 
to  live  upon  it.  Moreover,  I  told  my  son  not  to  mention  the 
fact  of  having  paid  for  the  land,  because  his  father  would 
think  we  were  interfering  in  his  business,  and  I  did  not  wish 
him  to  know  that  the  land  was  paid  for  until  the  question  of 
the  Don's  title  was  settled.  Then  we  would  have  avoided 
painful  discussions,  and  the  eloquence  of  facts  (I  trusted) 
would  clearly  show  to  my  husband  that  his  wife  and  son  had 
acted  right,  when  we  had  paid  the  legitimate  owner  for  his 
property." 

"And  now,  gentlemen,  let  me  add  this,  only  this,  that  I  do 
not  mean  to  criticise  anybody's  actions  or  opinions,  but,  from 
my  point  of  view,  I  say,  those  laws  which  authorize  you  to 
locate  homesteads  upon  lands  claimed  as  Mexican  grants, 
those  laws  are  wrong,  and  good,  just,  moral  citizens  should 
not  be  guided  by  them.  Settlers  should  wait  until  the  titles 
are  finally  approved  or  rejected.  See  !  look  back  and  see  all 
the  miseries  that  so  many  innocent  families  have  suffered  by 
locating  in  good  faith,  their  humble  homes  upon  lands  that 
they  were  forced  to  abandon.  Our  law-givers  doubtless  mean 
well,  but  they  have — through  lack  of  matured  reflection,  I 
think,  or  lack  of  unbiased  thought — legislated  curses  upon 
this  land  of  God's  blessings.  I  love  my  country,  as  every  true- 
hearted  American  woman  should,  but,  with  shame  and  sorrow, 
I  acknowledge  that  we  have  treated  the  conquered  Spaniards 
most  cruelly,  and  our  law-givers  have  been  most  unjust  to  them. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  265 

Those  poor,  defenseless  ones  whom  our  Government  pledged 
its  faith  to  protect,  have  been  sadly  despoiled  and  reduced  to 
poverty. 

"I  have  only  expressed  my  opinion,  gentlemen;  I  mean  no 
slur  upon  yours.  I  hope  you  see  now  that  I  alone,  I  am  the 
one  to  blame  for  the  purchase  of  the  land  which  has  given  so 
much  offence.  Good  night,  gentlemen." 

So  profound  was  the  silence  following  Mrs.  DarrelFs  exit,  that 
a  pin  could  have  been  heard  drop.  Romeo  Hancock  was  the 
first  to  find  utterance  to  his  amazement. 

"By  George,"  he  said,  "but  ain't  she  superb!  I  see  now 
where  Clarence  gets  his  good  sense  and  correct  ideas." 

At  any  other  time,  Darrell  would  have  been  proud  of  this 
tribute  paid  to  the  wife  he  adored,  with  passionate,  secret,  un- 
revealed  tenderness,  but  now  he  was  too  angry.  He  even  felt 
angry  at  the  longing  to  take  to  his  heart  that  darling  so  reso 
lute  and  yet  so  gentle.  This  longing,  when  his  pride  clamored 
that  she  was  wrong  and  should  be  reproved,  was  an  additional 
torture  to  him.  He  remained  silent. 

"Well,  I  suppose  that — in  the  language  of  the  poets — 'this 
settles  our  hash,'"  Gasbang  said,  and  laughed  at  his  witticism, 
as  it  was  his  habit  to  do. 

Hughes  and  Miller  laughed  with  him,  but  no  one  else.  All 
were  deeply  impressed  with  Mrs.  DarrelPs  words. 

"I  wish  she  had  told  me  this  before,"  Darrell  said,  and 
resumed  his  recumbent  position. 

"  Yes,  why  didn't  she  ?  "  Gasbang  asked. 

"  Because  women  are  bound  to  do  mischief,"  Mathews  re 
plied. 

"  She  stated  her  reasons  very  clearly,"  Romeo  said. 

"What  were  they?"  Mathews  asked. 

"Can  your  memory  be  failing  you  already,  Mr.  Mathews, 
that  you  forget  what  you  just  heard,  or  are  you  getting  hard  of 
hearing?"  Romeo  answered. 

Mathews  snorted  and  turned  his  back  on  Romeo.  Everett 
answered  him,  saying: 


266  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"  My  mother  said  that  she  wished  the  purchase  to  be  kept 
quiet  until  the  Don  should  have  his  title.  Then  the  fact  of 
the  land  being  his,  would  prove  the  correctness  of  having  paid 
for  what  we  took,  and  thus  all  discussions  would  have  been 
avoided.  Unfortunately  some  busybody  went  to  see  the  entry, 
and  came  to  herald  his  glorious  discovery." 

"How  did  she  know  that  the  Don's  title  would  not  be 
rejected  ?  "  Mathews  inquired. 

"  Her  good  sense  told  her,"  Romeo  answered. 

"I  wasn't  talking  to  you,"  Mathews  retorted,  making  all 
laugh — and  even  Darrell  smiled — but  he  looked  very  pale,  and 
Everett  began  to  feel  anxious,  to  see  his  pallor. 

The  conversation  had  now  drifted  to  the  subject  of  the  com 
ing  survey  of  the  rancho. 

"  I  heard  that  the  surveyor  will  be  on  the  ground  by  the  first 
of  October,"  Miller  said. 

"All  right;  that  will  give  us  plenty  of  time,"  Gasbang  ob 
served. 

Everett  said  something  to  Romeo,  who  then  went  and  whis 
pered  to  his  father,  whereupon  Old  Hancock  nodded  an  assent 
and  in  a  few  moments  said : 

"  Well,  my  friends,  let  us  go  home.  For  the  present  I  don't 
see  that  anything  can  be  done.  Mr.  Darrell  looks  fatigued, 
and  I  don't  wonder  at  it,  for  we  have  bored  him  nearly  to 
death.  Let  him  go  to  bed  and  rest." 

Evidently  Mathews,  Gasbang  and  others  had  no  idea  of 
going  home  so  early,  but  as  Darrell  said  nothing,  thev^  reluct 
antly  arose  and  took  their  departure. 

If  Darrell  had  obeyed  the  impulse  of  his  heart  when  he  went 
up-stairs  to  his  bed-chamber,  he  would  have  taken  his  wife  in 
his  arms  and,  with  a  kiss,  made  his  peace  with  her;  for  he 
knew  her  to  be  true,  and  always  acting  from  the  best  motives. 
But  there  was  that  streak  of  perversity  within,  which  impelled 
him  to  do  or  say  the  wrong  thing,  when  at  the  same  time  an 
inner  voice  was  admonishing  him  to  do  the  opposite. 

"  I  am  sorry,  William,  that  I  kept  that  matter  of  the  land 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  267 

purchase  from  you.  Believe  me,  my  husband,  I  did  so  out  of 
a  desire  to  avoid  discussions  always  painful  to  me.  You  seemed 
so  happy  here,  that  I  hated  to  bring  up  for  argument  any  dis 
agreeable  subject.  It  was  a  mistake;  I  regret  it." 

"Yes,  wise  women  generally  put  their  foot  in  it,"  said  he, 
turning  his  back  on  her. 

•c  Can  you  forgive  me  ?  I  am  very  sorry.  And  now  I  want 
you  to  take  a  nice  warm  bath;  after  so  much  excitement  it  will 
soothe  you,  and  you  will  sleep  sweetly.  After  all,  it  is  better 
that  you  know  the  whole  thing  now." 

"  No  thanks  to  you,  though." 

"  That  is  true,  but  you  know  my  maxim." 

"Which  one?     Wise  women  have  so  many." 

"  To  accept  blessings  thankfully,  even  when  they  come  in 
disguise,"  she  replied,  taking  no  notice  of  his  sarcasm. 

"  I  have  yet  to  see  the  blessing  in  this." 

"  You  will  to-morrow  if  you  will  only  take  care  now  of  your 
physical  comfort — your  health.  Come,  take  a  bath;  it  will 
prevent  your  having  a  fever." 

"I  don't  want  a  bath ;  I  feel  badly." 

"That  is  why  you  should  have  it.  I  know  your  constitution 
well — nothing  would  be  better  for  you  than  warm  bathing.  Be 
reasonable,  please.  I  feel  tired,  too ;  I  would  like  to  go  to 
bed." 

"Why  don't  you,  then?" 

"Because  I  wanted  first  to  see  you  resting  for  the  night." 

"I  don't  know  that  I'll  go  to  bed.  I  think  I'll  sleep  in  this 
chair." 

"Very  well,  then,  I  shall  go  into  Clarence's  room  and  sleep 
there!  It  would  keep  me  awake  to  know  that  you  were  sit 
ting  up." 

"Do  as  you  please." 

"Can  it  be  possible,  William,  that  you  refuse  to  go  to  bed 
because  you  are  too  angry  with  me  to  have  me  lie  by  your 
side?" 

He  said  nothing,  but  looked  very  pale.  She  waited;  he 
never  said  a  word. 


268  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

"Very  well,  William,  I  am  dismissed  I  suppose.  If  you 
are  sick  or  require  anything,  knock  at  Clarence's  door.  I 
shall  be  there.  Good  night." 

"Good  night." 

She  went  quietly  into  Clarence's  room  and  lit  a  lamp.  She 
went  to  a  hall  closet  and  took  a  soft  merino  wrapper,  came 
back,  locked  her  door,  undressed  herself,  put  the  wrapper  on, 
and  sat  by  the  window  to  think. 

"What  fools  men  are?  Such  small  vanity  guides  them.  To 
think  that  William  should  fling  away  happiness  at  the  instiga 
tion  of  a  reptile  like  Gasbang!  And  you,  my  sweet  boy,  my 
darling  Clarence,  how  will  this  affect  your  happiness?"  This 
thought  gave  her  the  keenest  pain. 

While  Mrs.  Darrell  was  thus  sadly  meditating,  her  angry 
lord  was  nearly  choking  with  smothered  rage — intensified  a 
hundred  fold  by  his  disappointment  at  being  left  alone  without 
his  adored,  worshipped  Mary.  Mrs.  Darrell  knew  that  her 
husband  loved  her,  but  she  had  never  guessed  that  torrent  of 
passion  and  devotion  which  rushed  through  that  rugged  nature 
like  a  river  plunging  from  Yosemite  hights  into  unknown  abys 
mal  depths. 

Why  would  he  not  yield  to  her  sweet  entreaties  to  bathe  and 
take  his  comfort  ?  Was  it  all  perverse  obstinacy?  Partly,  yes. 
He  had  refused  a  warm  bath  and  her  sweet  society,  for  the 
very  reason  that  those  two  were  the  things  he  most  desired  on 
earth — he  felt  as  if  even  his  bones  clamored  for  them.  But 
there  was  yet  another  equally  strong  motive  in  that  very  com 
plex  nature — a  motive  stronger  than  obstinacy — compelling 
him  in  spite  of  himself,  and  this  was  his  bashfulness.  He 
feared  that  his  wife  might  see  the  bruises  on  his  arms  and  the 
heavy  welt  that  he  knew  there  must  be  around  his  body,  made 
by  the  coil  of  the  reata.  He  felt  very  sore,  and  his  bruises 
became  more  painful,  but  he  would  rather  die  than  let  any  one 
see  his  pitiful  plight.  And  thus  he  sat  up  all  night  and  would 
not  undress,  or  go  to  bed,  or  be  comforted. 

Towards  morning  he  walked  to  the  window  and  looked  into 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  269 

the  valley,  then  his  gaze  wandered  towards  the  Alamar  house. 
All  the  windows  had  the  shutters  closed  and  no  light  was  seen 
from  them  excepting  one.  He  did  not  know  what  room  that 
was  or  who  occupied  it,  but  unconsciously  he  watched  it — 
watched  the  light  he  could  see  through  the  lace  curtains.  The 
light  became  intercepted  at  regular  intervals ;  so  he  concluded 
that  some  one  must  be  going  and  coming  before  that  light. 
He  smiled,  hoping  that  the  Don  might  be  as  miserable  as  he 
was — unable  to  sleep. 

But  the  Don  was  sleeping.  She  who  was  awake,  walking  in 
her  solitary  vigil,  was  Mercedes.  Those  beautiful  blue  eyes 
had  never  closed  in  sleep  all  night. 

She  had  been  embroidering  a  mouchoir  case  for  Clarence 
that  unfortunate  afternoon  of  Darrell's  performance,  when  she 
heard  loud  talking  in  the  piazza.  At  first  she  paid  no  attention 
to  it  and  went  on  with  -her  work,  hoping  that  Clarence  would 
return  early,  because  her  dream  troubled  her.  The  talking 
becoming  louder,  and  more  voices  being  heard,  she  felt  alarmed, 
imagining  that  Clarence's  horses  had  run  away  and  he  had  been 
hurt.  She  went  out  to  inquire. 

The  entire  Alamar  family,  as  well  as  Mrs.  Mechlin,  George 
and  Lizzie,  were  in  the  veranda.  All  had  seen  Darrell's  attempt 
and  subsequent  steeple-chase.  Now  Gabriel  and  Victoriano 
had  returned  and  related  what  had  passed  in  the  hollow.  Vic 
toriano  was  again  overcome  with  laughter,  which,  being  so 
hearty  and  uncontrollable,  became  contagious.  Even  Gabriel 
and  Mr.  Mechlin,  who  were  less  disposed  to  indulge  in  hilarity, 
laughed  a  little.  Mercedes  was  the  only  one  who  not  even 
smiled.  She  did  not  understand  a  word  of  what  was  said. 
Gradually  she  began  to  comprehend,  and  she  stood  motionless, 
listening,  her  pale  lips  firmly  compressed,  her  eyes  only  show 
ing  her  agitation  and  how  grieved  she  was;  their  dark-blue  was 
almost  black,  and  they  glowed  like  stars. 

"  Cheer  up,  little  pussy.  When  Clarence  comes  he  will  un 
deceive  the  old  man,  and  all  will  be  right,"  said  Don  Mariano, 
putting  his  arms  around  her  yielding  form  and  drawing  her  to 
his  heart. 


270  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Palalra  suelta,  no  tiene  vuclta"  Dona  Josefa  said.  "  Dar- 
rell  can  never  recall  his  insulting  words." 

"  But  he  can  apologize  for  them,"  Don  Mariano  said. 

"And  would  that  satisfy  you?"  Carlota  asked. 

"  It  would  have  to,"  was  the  Don's  answer. 

"  Oh !  papa ! "  Rosario  exclaimed. 

"What  then?     Shall  I  go  and  shoot  the  old  fool?" 

"I  believe  he  would  enjoy  that,  he  is  so  full  of  fight,"  Victo- 
riano  said,  recommencing  his  laughing. 

"  I  fear  his  anger  will  not  abate  as  long  as  the  bruises  of  the 
reata  remain  painful,"  Gabriel  said,  thoughtfully. 

"  Did  you  draw  the  lazo  very  tight?  "  Don  Mariano  asked. 

"Not  intentionally,  but  he  himself  did  so  by  stooping  forward 
as  his  horse  galloped.  Every  time  he  did  so  the  noose  became 
more  closely  drawn  until  he  could  scarcely  breathe." 

"  This  is  a  bad  business,  George,"  the  Don  said  to  his  son- 
in-law,  who  had  remained  a  silent  listener  to  all. 

"Yes,  sir;  but  let  us  hope  that  between  Clarence  and  Mrs. 
Darrell  they  will  pacify  the  old  man.  The  thing  now  is  to  give 
him  time  to  cool  off  his  anger,"  George  replied. 

"  If  those  squatters  could  be  kept  away,  Darrell  would  come 
to  his  senses  much  sooner,"  Mr.  Mechlin  said. 

"That's  it  exactly,"  Gabriel  added;  "they  make  the  mischief." 

"But  why  does  he  allow  it?"  Dona  Josefa  said. 

"  Because  he  loves  the  smell  of  gunpowder,  and  they  are  full 
of  it,"  Tano  explained. 

"  I  think  Mrs.  Darrell  ought  to  prevent  those  horrible  crea 
tures  from  invading  her  house,"  Carlota  said. 

"They  only  go  to  the  'colony.,  The  old  buster  wants  them 
there.  He  would  smash  the  furniture  if  his  pets  were  not 
allowed  to  come  to  lick  his  boots,"  Victoriano  asserted,  posi 
tively. 

"  You  don't  speak  very  respectfully  of  your  future  father-in- 
law,"  George  said  to  Victoriano,  laughing. 

"  Not  at  present.  Not  when  I  have  just  seen  him  running 
away  like  a  chicken  thief,  just  caught  with  a  turkey  under  each 
arm,"  Tano  replied,  lapsing  into  another  fit  of  laughter. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  271 

"Oh,  Tano !  if  you  care  for  Alice,  how  can  you  so  ridicule 
her  father?"  Mercedes  exclaimed,  speaking  for  the  first  time. 
And  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  she  turned  away  and  went  to 
her  room. 

There  she  remained  inconsolable,  her  lovely  face  often 
bathed  .in  tears.  She  did  not  go  to  bed ;  she  hoped  that  Clar 
ence  might  possibly  have  finished  his  business  in  town  and 
hurried  back.  She  watched  for  the  faintest  sound  all  night. 

In  the  morning  Madame  Halier  came  to  see  her,  and  im 
mediately  went  to  report  to  Dofia  Josefa  the  state  of  Mercedes' 
eyes.  Don  Mariano  came  in  at  once  and  took  his  pet  in  his 
arms. 

"Papa,  you  said  you  were  going  to-day.  Please  don't  go," 
she  begged. 

"Why  not,  my  pet?  I  shall  go  only  a  little  ways  with  those 
stupid  Indians  who  keep  letting  the  cattle  turn  back.  I  shall 
return  before  dark,"  he  said,  smoothing  her  golden  hair. 

"Papa,  please  don't  go.  I  want  you  to  be  here  when  Clar 
ence  returns.  Let  the  cattle  be.  I  want  you  here.  You 
may  never  see  Clarence  again  in  this  world  if  you  go."  And 
she  put  her  pale  cheek  against  her  father's  and  sobbed  con 
vulsively. 

"  What  an  idea  !  Why  shouldn't  I  see  Clarence  again  if  I 
ride  one  or  two  miles?  My  baby  darling,  you  are  too  nervous. 
You  have  cried  all  night,  and  now  your  mind  is  in  a  whirl  of 
sad  visions.  Do  not  exaggerate  the  mischief  that  Darrell 
might  do.  He  will  probably  say  very  insulting  things  to  Clar 
ence,  but  Clarence  is  as  true  as  steel,  and  has  a  very  clear 
head." 

"I  know  that  I  am  sure  of  him.  He  is  so  true.  But, 
papa,  can  I  marry  him  after  what  his  father  said  to  you,  and 
when  he  tried  to  strike  you  ?  Can  I  marry  him  after  that, 
papa?" 

"Why  not,  pray?  What  he  said  is  an  infamous  lie,  and  be 
cause  Darrell  chooses  to  indulge  in  mean  thoughts  and  atro 
cious  language,  is  that  a  reason  why  you  and  Clarence  should 


272  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

be  made  wretched  for  life?  If  Darrell  did  not  permit  men 
like  Gasbang,  and  others  influenced  by  Peter  Roper,  to  come 
near  him,  his  ears  would  not  hear  such  low,  vulgar  suggestions. 
As  long  as  we  know  that  Clarence  is  a  gentleman,  and  he  be 
haves  as  such,  I  shall  not  permit  that  you  two  be  separated  by 
anything  that  Darrell  may  do  or  say." 

"But,  papa,  you  will  keep  out  of  Mr.  DarrelPs  way." 

"Certainly,  my  poor  little  darling.  Don't  be  afraid;  Darrell 
will  not  attack  me  again." 

The  Don  talked  in  this  consoling  and  reassuring  way  to  his 
favorite  child  until  he  saw  that  he  had  quieted  her.  She 
promised  to  eat  breakfast  and  then  try  to  sleep.  • 

"It  won't  do  to  look  at  Clarence  through  such  swollen  orbs. 
You  had  better  let  Tano  give  you  one  of  his  graphic  accounts 
of  the  battle  of  Alamar,  as  he  calls  DarrelPs  performance,  and 
make  you  laugh." 

"No,  I  couldn't  laugh.     I  wouldn't  if  I  could." 

"Very  well.     To  sleep  is  the  best  for  you." 

He  kissed  her  and  soon  after  he  and  Gabriel  went  on  their 
way.  They  quickly  overtook  the  herders,  who  were  driving 
the  lot  of  cattle  which  had  started  at  daylight.  The  Don  was 
confident  of  returning  at  sundown,  and  glad  to  leave  Mer 
cedes  more  contented  and  hopeful,  he  rode  away  cheerfully. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 
DARRELL  ASTONISHES  HIMSELF. 

Mercedes  felt  so  comforted  by  what  her  father  had  said, 
that  in  less  than  ten  minutes  after  he  left  she  was  sleeping  like 
the  good  child  that  she  was.  Madam  Halier  watched  her 
slumbers,  coming  to  the  door  every  few  minutes.  And  when 
she  had  slept  and  felt  refreshed,  she  had  a  bath  and  a  luncheon 
of  tea,  cold  chicken,  fresh  peaches  with  cream,  and  fresh 
grapes  just  cut  from  the  vines;  then  she  was  ready  to  dreaB 
herself  and  take  up  her  embroidery.  She  was  afraid  her  eyes 
would  yet  be  too  swollen  for  her  to  go  into  the  parlor  or 
veranda,  and  perhaps  meet  George  or  Mr.  Mechlin.  So  she 
stayed  in  her  room. 

But  she  was  missed,  and  George  came  to  knock  at  her 
door,  and  being  asked  to  come  in,  he  did  so,  making  a  pro 
found  bow.  Then  counting  on  his  fingers  as  he  spoke,  be 
gan  : 

"Dona  Josefa,  Dona  Beatrice,  Dona  Carlota,  Dona  Rosa- 
rio,  Dona  Elvira,  Dona  Carolina,  Dona  Elizabeth,  all  request 
the  pleasure  of  your  company  at  a  canning  performance  to 
take  place  this  afternoon  in  the  kitchen  of  Dona  Beatrice." 

Mercedes  laughed,  asking:  "Are  they  really  going  to  do  the 
canning  ?  Who  knows  about  it?" 

"They  all  know,  theoretically,  but  as  to  practice,  that  lquien 
sabe?  However,  they  are  going  to  peal  peaches  by  the  bushel 
this  evening,  so  they  will  all  dine  there." 

"Doesn't  mamma  expect  papa  to  dinner?"  asked  she, 
alarmed;  "I  hope  so." 

"I'll  go  and  inquire,"  George  said,  going;  but  she  followed 
him,  trembling — she  did  not  know  why.  She  took  George's 


274  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

arm,  and  both  went  to  the  piazza,  where  Carlota,  Rosario 
and  Dona  Josefa  were  waiting  for  George  to  go  with  them. 

"Mamma,  don't  you  expect  papa  to  dinner?"  asked  she. 

"Yes,  but  he  might  be  late;  so  we  will  dine  at  Mrs. 
Mechlin's,  and  he  and  Gabriel  will  take  supper  here  on  their 
return." 

"I  will  wait  for  them  here." 

"Will  you  not  go  to  Mrs.  Mechlin's?" 

"No,  please.     I'll  stay  home." 

"Take  my  advice,  and  don't  see  Clarence  yet,"  Carlota 
said. 

"Why  not,  pray?" 

"Because,  after  what  his  father  did  and  said,  the  least  you 
have  to  do  with  the  Darrells  the  more  it  will  be  to  your  honor," 
Rosario  said,  sententiously. 

"And  must  I  give  up  Clarence  because — because  his  father 
gets  mad,  and — and — " 

"And  insults  your  father,  and  insults  you,"  Carlota  said. 

"But  that  would  be  awful,"  said  she,  looking  at  George, 
who  full  of  sympathy  for  his  favorite  sister-in-law,  said : 

"Do  not  worry  about  that  now — you  have  suffered  enough. 
No  doubt,  Clarence  will  make  it  all  right,  if  we  only  give  him 
time.  All  will  be  explained." 

"  I  doubt  that,"  Carlota  said. 

"I  don't  think  Mercedes  knows  all  that  Darrell  said.  I 
think  Clarence  himself  will  see  the  impossibility  of  his  marry 
ing  Mercedes  as  things  are  now,"  Dona  Josefa  said. 

"What  are  we  to  do?"  Mercedes  exclaimed,  in  low,  tremu 
lous  tones,  that  revealed  all  the  desolation  she  felt. 

"Try  to  be  courageous,  little  sister,"  Carlota  said. 

"What  to  do?  Clarence  himself  ought  to  know — to  sepa 
rate  for  the  present.  Will  you  marry  the  son  of  a  man  who 
said  of  you  and  your  father  such  horrible  things?"  Dona  Jo 
sefa  asked. 

"But  Clarence  is  innocent,  and  so  am  I,"  pleaded  Mercedes, 
with  white  lips. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  275 

"  My  daughter,  do  you  not  see  that  I  mitst  withdraw  my  per 
mission  to  your  marriage  now?" 

"Will  you  tell  that  to  Clarence?"  asked  Mercedes,  fright 
ened. 

"Certainly,  as  soon  as  I  see  him." 

"And  break  our  engagement?"  she  asked,  with  a  voice 
scarcely  audible. 

"  Certainly.     What  else,  my  daughter?" 

"I  want  to  go  to  my  room,"  she  said,  slowly  turning  to  go 
back,  walking  as  if  in  a  dream. 

George  put  his  arm  around  her  shoulder,  and  walked  with 
her. 

"Don't  be  discouraged,  my  dear  humanita.  Dona  Josefa  is 
justly  indignant  now,  but  her  anger  will  pass  off,  and  she  will 
see  how  absurd  it  will  be  to  punish  you  and  Clarence  for  the 
sins  of  his  ill-tempered,  foolish  father.  The  only  thing  now  is 
to  drop  the  matter.  'Least  said,  sooner  mended,'  applies  to 
this  case  exactly." 

"I  wish  papa  were  here.  He  don't  think  as  mamma  does. 
If  mamma  sees  Clarence  first,  she  will  send  him  away.  Oh! 
that  will  be  awful  to  me." 

"We  will  keep  your  mamma  at  our  house  until  Don  Mari 
ano  returns.  Tano  will  see  Clarence  first." 

When  George  left,  Mercedes  hurried  to  her  bedside  to 
pray.  In  all  the  sad  tribulations  of  her  mind,  her  heart 
turned  to  her  Redeemer  and  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary.  To 
them  she  told  all  her  grief,  all  her  trials,  and  after  begging  to 
be  strengthened,  she  always  arose  from  her  bended  knees 
comforted. 

This  time,  however,  her  convulsive  sobs  only  became  more 
uncontrollable,  as  she  poured  out  her  great  sorrow  and  terri 
ble  fears  before  the  pitying  Mother  of  suffering  humanity. 

When  her  sobs  were  almost  a  paroxysm,  Madame  Halier, 
who  had  come  to  the  door  to  listen,  went,  and  much  excited, 
told  Dona  Josefa  that  Mercita  would  certainly  be  ill  if  some 
one  didn't  show  a  little  humanity  to  her. 


276  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

Dona  Josefa  hurried  to  Mercedes*  room,  and  found  her 
still  at  her  bedside  sobbing  and  praying.  Gently  the  mother 
lifted  her  child  and  pressed  her  to  her  heart. 

"Mercedes,  darling,  have  courage.  Your  father  and  Clar 
ence  will  talk  this  matter  over,  and  determine  what  is  best  to 
do.  Perhaps  it  might  all  be  arranged." 

"You  will  not  tell  Clarence  to — that — to  go  away?" 

"Certainly  not.  But  there  must  be  some  other  arrangement 
about  the  wedding.  It  will  be  postponed,  perhaps.  Darrell 
could  not  be  expected  to  be  present,  or  he  might  wish  the  en 
gagement  broken  off." 

Carlota  and  Rosario  came  in  to  see  how  Mercedes  felt,  as 
Madam  Halier  seemed  to  be  so  anxious  and  indignant  with 
everybody  for  their  cruelty  to  Mercedes. 

"If  old  Darrell  wants  the  engagement  broken  off,  then 
my  dear  sister  you  must  break  it — else  he  will  have  a 
good  reason  to  say  that  papa  wants  to  sell  you,  or  to  en 
trap  Clarence,  for  his  money,  into  marrying  you,"  Rosario 
said. 

"Did  Mr.  Darrell  say  that?"  Mercedes  asked,  blushing, 
so  that  her  pale  lace  became  suffused  to  the  roots  of  her 
hair. 

"He  said  worse — but  you  had  better  hear  no  more," 

"That  is  awful!"  the  poor  child  exclaimed,  clasping  her 
hands  in  eloquent  protestation;  then  adding:  "Mamma,  I  will 
try  to  have  courage.  I  don't  know  what  I  am  to  do.  But 
if  my  father  has  been  so  grossly  insulted,  I  must  feel  for  him. 
I  must  not  be  selfish.  I  don't  know  what  I'll  do,"  and  the  un 
happy  girl  pressed  her  hands  to  her  forehead,  as  if  to  keep  to 
gether  her  distracted  thoughts. 

"  I  think  the  best  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  go  to  bed.  To 
morrow  your  father  will  see  Clarence.  That  is  George's 
advice,  and  I  think  it  is  good,"  said  her  mother,  as  she  kissed 
and  embraced  her,  adding :  "the  sweet,  blued-eyed  baby  is  too 
young  to  get  married,  any  way,  and  can  well  wait  four  years, 
and  then  be  only  twenty-two  years  old."  But  seeing  the  blank 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  277 

despair  in  those  expressive  eyes,  Dofia  Josefa  hastened  to  add: 
"I  don't  say  that  you  will  wait  that  long,  but  that  you  are 
young  enough  to  do  so." 

When  Mercedes  was  again  alone,  she  tried  to  think  it  was 
her  duty  to  her  father  to  break  her  engagement.  Her  mind 
utterly  refused  to  see  the  matter  in  that  light,  but  as  her  older 
sisters  had  said  her  engagement  ought  to  be  broken  off,  and 
her  mother  spoke  of  the  wedding  being  postponed,  it  was 
clear  that  she  could  not  be  married  on  the  1 6th.  Would  Clar 
ence  be  willing  to  wait?  and  these  thoughts  revolved  around 
her  mind  in  a  circle  of  coils,  worse  than  the  one  which  so  en 
raged  and  hurt  Darrell. 

Madam  Halier  and  Victoriano  ate  their  dinner  alone — 
with  Milord  for  sole  company.  Poor  Tano,  though  he  had 
laughed  heartily  at  DarrelFs  plight,  was  scarcely  less  dis 
tressed  than  Mercedes,  and  anxiously  looked  for  Clarence's 
return. 

In  the  meantime  this  young  gentleman  was  traveling  at  the 
rate  of  twelve  miles  per  hour,  and  would  have  come  faster  had 
the  road  been  better.  He  had  been  obliged  to  delay,  because 
Hubert  had  telegraphed  that  if  he  waited  two  hours  he  would 
give  him  a  definite  answer  about  Gabriel's  business.  The  an 
swer  came,  and  it  was  all  that  could  be  desired.  Gabriel  could 
go  at  any  time,  or  wait  until  the  first  of  October  to  take  his 
place  at  the  bank.  Clarence  was  delighted  to  have  this  good 
news  to  carry  to  Mercedes,  with  the  addition  that  Fred  said 
that  the  mines  developed  richer  ores  every  day.  He  had  an 
offer  of  two  million  dollars  for  his  mines — but  both  Hubert 
and  Fred  advised  him  not  to  sell. 

With  these  cheerful  thoughts,  he  was  getting  into  his 
phaeton,  when  the  notary,  who  had  made  the  entry  of  Don 
Mariano's  conveyance,  came  close  to  him,  and  said  in  a  low 
voice,  and  looking  mysteriously  around  : 

"Look  here,  it  may  be  nothing,  but  those  two  fellows  are  so 
tricky  and  slippery  that  I  always  imagine  they  are  up  to  some 
thing,  and  both  have  been  twice  to  look  in  my  books  at 


278  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

the  entry  of  the  land  conveyance  which  Senor  Alamar 
made  to  you.  They  might  mean  mischief,  though  I  don't 
see  how." 

"Of  whom  are  you  speaking?"  Clarence  ask'ed. 

"Of  Roper  and  Gasbang.  Why  should  they  wish  to  know 
about  that  conveyance?" 

"I  don't  know;  but  I  am  sure  it  is  for  no  good.  When  did 
they  look  at  the  entry?" 

"About  two  days  ago,  the  last  time.  When  they  first  looked 
at  it  I  was  not  at  home.  My  wife  was  at  my  office  when  Ro 
per  came  and  asked  permission  to  see  the  date  of  a  convey 
ance  which  he  himself  had  made.  This  was  only  a  ruse. 
Two  days  after  he  came  and  told  me  that  one  of  his  clients 
wanted  to  buy  land  from  Darrell,  and  wished  to  see  what  sort 
of  a  title  he  had.  I,  of  course,  let  him  see  it.  Gasbang  came 
after,  and  that  made  me  suspicious." 

Clarence  thanked  the  notary,  and  drove  home  as  fast  as 
the  uneven  road  permitted.  He  felt  that  he  must  at  last 
disclose  to  his  father  all  about  that  land  transaction,  and 
feared  that  he  would  be  angry.  His  fears,  he  saw,  were  only 
too  well  founded  as  soon  as  he  arrived  home. 

The  family  were  at  supper  when  he  drove  up  to  the  door. 
On  hearing  the  sound  of  wheels,  Everett  left  the  table  and 
hastened  to  meet  him.  All  his  brothers  and  sisters  would 
gladly  have  done  the  same,  but  a  look  from  their  mother  kept 
them  in  their  chairs. 

In  a  few  words  Everett  condensed  the  unfortunate  occur 
rences  of  the  previous  day  and  evening,  ending  his  hurried 
statement  by  saying  that  the  entire  family  hoped  that  Clar 
ence's  influence  might  appease  their  father's  irritation  when 
nothing  else  would. 

"No;  I  am  sure  that  if  mother  has  failed,  I  shall  have  no 
effect  at  all,"  Clarence  said.  "But  are  you  sure  that  there  is 
nothing  else  to  anger  him?  The  fact  alone  of  my  having  paid  for 
the  land,  and  at  my  mother's  request,  would  not  so  infuriate 
him  while  in  his  normal  state  of  mind.  There  must  be  some 
other  irritating  circumstance." 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  279 

"None  that  we  know  of." 

"I  am  glad  he  did  not  strike  the  Don." 

"So  am  I,  though  I  have  a  big  bump  to  testify  that  he 
struck  me,  and  I  suppose  Tano  has  another  to  speak  for 
him." 

Clarence  told  the  servant  who  came  to  take  the  horses  to 
the  stable  to  leave  them  where  they  were,  only  throwing  a 
blanket  on,  as  he  had  driven  them  very  fast.  He  and  Everett 
then  walked  into  the  hall,  carrying  some  small  parcels  which 
he  (as  usual)  had  brought  home — one  of  those  parcels  being  a 
beautiful  pipe,  for  which  he  had  paid  forty  dollars,  and  a  lot  of 
fine  tobacco,  for  his  father. 

Placing  them  on  the  hall  table,  he  said  to  Everett :  "  I  sup 
pose  father  would  rather  throw  this  tobacco  into  my  eyes  than 
put  it  in  his  pipe  and  smoke  it." 

Everett  laughed  at  this,  thinking  it  rather  a  witticism  under 
the  circumstances,  and  was  still  laughing  when  both  went  into 
the  dining-room. 

Clarence  said  good  evening  to  all,  kissing  his  mother  as  he 
took  his  seat  beside  her.  Darrell  never  lifted  his  eyes,  paying 
no  attention  to  his  son. 

"What  made  you  laugh  just  now,  Retty?"  Willie  asked. 

"  Something  that  Clary  said,"  answered  Everett. 

"Was  it  anything  funny?" 

"It  must  have  been;  but  you  needn't  hear  it." 

"But  I  want  to  hear  it,"  he  insisted. 

"It  must  have  been  about  your  father,  he  is  the  funny  man 
now — the  laughing  stock,"  said  Darrell  to  Willie;  then  to 
Clarence:  "We  have  had  circus  performances.  Your  father 
distinguished  himself  by  performing  in  the  tight  rope,  with 
Don  Gabriel — a  very  tight  rope,"  he  said,  making  a  semi-cir 
cular  sign  around  his  body  with  both  hands,  and  nodding  his 
head  at  Clarence  by  way  of  emphasis,  or  as  if  he  challenged 
him  to  contradict  his  statement. 

"Oh,  father !  I  am  very  sorry,"  was  all  that  Clarence  could 
answer. ' 


280  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

The  entire  family  were  almost  choking  with  suppressed 
laughter,  but  none  dare  give  vent  to  it. 

"Why  don't  you  laugh — all  of  you?"  asked  he,  looking 
around  fiercely. 

"Because  you  frighten  their  laughter  away,"  Mrs.  Darrell 
replied.  "They  fear  to  offend  you." 

"Offend  me?  Me?  And  since  when  such  consideration  ? 
Since  when,  I  say?" 

"Since  they  were  old  enough  to  know  you  as  their  father," 
calmly  replied  Mrs.  Darrell. 

"Ah!  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Well,  sir,"  he  said,  addressing 
Clarence  again,  to  the  terror  of  all  the  family,  "I  have  at  last 
learned  that  you  have  been  making  clandestine  bargains 
with  your  future  father-in-law,  placing  me  in  a  most  ridiculous 
position,  for  which  I  don't  thank  you." 

"I  am  sorry,  father.  My  intention  was  most  kind,"  Clar 
ence  answered,  respectfully,  but  very  calmly. 

"You  only  thought  that  as  I  was  a  fool,  you  would  be  my 
sense-bearer,  and  act  for  me — you,  the  man  of  brains." 

"No,  sir.  All  I  thought  was,  that  as  you  seem  to  love 
my  mother,  you  would  prefer  to  give  her  the  kind  of  home 
that  she  desires.  I  thought  that  when  you  came  to  know 
all,  you  would  approve  of  my  having  obeyed  my  mother's 
wishes." 

"  If  you  were  so  sure  of  my  approval,  why  didn't  you  tell  me 
the  whole  thing  before?" 

"Because  I  was  pledged  to  my  mother  not  to  do  so.  I  was 
bound  to  be  silent." 

"  By  George !"  said  Darrell,  striking  the  table  with  his  fist, 
making  all  the  glasses  and  cups  dance;  "and  for  all  that  non 
sense  I  have  been  made  a  laughing  stock,  a  ridiculous,  trusting 
fool — an  ass ! " 

"No  one  will  think  that  but  yourself,"  Mrs.  Darrell  said; 
"and  you  will  change  your  mind,  I  hope." 

"And  how  do  you  know  that?" 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  281 

"I  was  supposing  that  people  reason  in  the  way  that  in  all 
my  life  I  have  believed  to  be  correct." 

"Yes,  what  you  believe  to  be  correct  no  one  else  has  any 
right  to  think  differently." 

"Whether  they  have  or  not,  I  shall  not  interfere." 

"No,  you  only  wanted  to  interfere  with  me." 

"Certainly.  As  my  life  is  united  to  yours,  I  am  obliged  to 
try  and  prevent  such  of  your  actions  as  will  make  me  un 
happy." 

"An  excellent  doctrine  for  wives — for  mothers  to  teach  their 
children — and  we  see  the  result  now." 

Mrs.  Darrell  was  pleased  that  his  attacks  seemed  directed  to 
herself  instead  of  Clarence,  but  she  felt  prematurely  relieved, 
for  now  he  came  down  upon  Clarence.  He  said : 

"Well,  sir,  since  yourself  and  your  mother  have  bought  this 
land,  and  since  I  am  an  unreclaimed  squatter,  I  suppose  I  had 
better  leave  this  place,  and  go  back  to  Alameda  again.  I  sup 
pose  I  can  have  that  place  again?" 

"You  will  not  have  to  lease  it,  father;  you  can  have  it  rent 
free,  as  long  as  you  live,  if  you  prefer  to  reside  there,"  Clarence 
replied. 

"How  is  that?" 

"I  bought  the  place,  and  if  you  wish  you  can  live  in  it" 

"You?  You  bought  the  place!  Then,  by  George \  you 
have  managed  to  coop  me  up,"  said  Mr.  Darrell,  drawing  down 
the  corners  of  his  mouth  and  elevating  his  shoulders  deprecat- 
ingly,  as  if  he  thought  Clarence  was  a  voracious  land-grabber, 
who  wanted  to  appropriate  to  himself  all  the  vacant  land  in  the 
United  States. 

•'Don't  say  that,  please.  The  place  was  for  sale,  Hubert 
telegraphed  me,  and  I  telegraphed  back  to  buy  it." 

"I  didn't  know  you  were  so  rich,"  he  answered,  sneer- 
ingly. 

Clarence  made  no  reply. 

"Well,  I  must  admit  you  have  cornered  me  completely;  but 
as  I  don't  want  to  live  on  the  bounty  of  my  rich  son,  I  must 
get  out  of  this  place." 

s^\ 


282  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"You  can  refund  me  the  price  of  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres,  father,  if  you  are  too  proud  to  accept  that  from  me, 
which  is  little  enough,  considering  your  generosity  to  me  all 
my  life.  The  other  two  claims,  you  know,  you  said  would  be 
one  for  Retty  and  the  other  for  myself.  This  house  and  the  or 
chards  are  all  on  your  claim." 

"  I  have  taken  a  dislike  to  the  whole  thing,"  said  he,  waiv 
ing  his  hand,  as  if  to  shift  the  position  of  the  land  in  question. 
"You  can  have  it  all,  together  with  the  Alameda  farm.  There 
are  other  lands  in  California." 

Mrs.  Darrell  and  Clarence  looked  at  each  other.  The  case 
seemed  hopeless.  All  were  silent. 

Mr.  Darrell  continued."  "All  I  want  before  I  leave  here  is 
to  give  your  greaser  father-in-law  a  sound  thrashing  and  an 
other  to  that  puppy,  Gabriel,  who  is  so  airy  and  proud, 
and  such  an  exquisite,  that  it  will  be  delightful  to  spoil  his 
beauty." 

"  But  why  should  you  wish  to  do  that?  What  has  Don  Ma 
riano  done  to  you?  and  if  Don  Gabriel  threw  his  lazo  on  you, 
it  was  to  protect  his  father." 

"What  has  the  old  greaser  done?  He  inveigled  you  into 
that  land  business,  and  you  together  have  made  me  ridiculous. 
That  is  what  the  matter  is." 

"Then  you  don't  believe  me?"  Mrs.  Darrell  said. 

"Don't  you  take  so  much  credit  to  yourself,  and  throw 
yourself  into  the  breach  like  a  heroine.  If  the  Don  hadn't  had 
that  pretty  daughter,  Clarence  would  not  have  been  so  obe 
dient  to  his  mother,  perhaps." 

Clarence  rose  to  his  feet,  very  pale,  but  he  sat  down  again, 
and  controlling  himself,  said  as  calmly  as  possible : 

"I  had  never  seen  one,  not  one  of  Don  Mariano's  daughters 
when  I  went  to  offer  to  pay  for  this  land." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  wouldn't  have  done  so  if  your 
mother  hadn't  wished  it?" 

"No  sir,  not  that.  I  think  I  would,  for  I  felt  great  sym 
pathy  with  the  Don  for  the  contemptible  manner  in  which 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  283 

the  squatters  received  the  propositions  he  made  them.  I 
was  convinced  then  that  the  land  belonged  to  him,  and 
nobody  had  a  right  to  take  it  without  paying  for  it." 

':Aha!  I  knew  we  would  come  to  that,"  said  Darrell,  stern 
ly,  glaring  at  his  son.  "I  was  a  thieving  squatter,  of  course, 
and  that  is  what  you  said  to  your  greaser  father-in-law,  who 
to  reward  your  high  sense  of  honor,  took  you  to  the  bosom  of 
his  family.  The  cowardly  dog,  who  will  take  insults  and  not 
resent  them,  but  has  puppies  at  his  heels  to  throw  lasooing  at 
people." 

"Pshaw!     I  never  thought  you  capable  of — " 

"Of  what?     Insulting  those  greasers?" 

"They  are  gentlemen,  no  matter  how  much  you  may  wish  to 
besmear  them  with  low  epithets." 

"Gentlemen  that  won't  fight." 

"They  told  you  they  would  fight  like  gentlemen" 

"Who  told  you  that?" 

"I  did,  father.  I  heard  Don  Mariano  and  Don  Gabriel  both 
tell  you  that,"  Everett  said. 

"If  they  are  so  ready  to  fight,  why  didn't  they  do  it 
when  I  told  the  old  dog  that  the  bait  to  catch  you  was  his 
daughter?" 

"What!  Did  you  say  that?"  asked  Clarence,  reddening  to 
the  roots  of  his  hair,  his  face  quickly  blanching  again. 

"I  did — in  clear  language." 

"In  dirty,  low,  nasty  language,  and  it  is  you  who  are  the 
coward,  to  insult  me  under  the  shelter  of  your  paternal  privi 
leges,"  said  Clarence,  rising.  "You  have  been  taunting  me 
until  I  can  bear  it  no  longer.  I  suppose  you  wish  to  drive  me 
from  your  house.  Be  it  so.  I  leave  now — never  to  enter  it 
again." 

"That  suits  me.  You  are  too  greasy  for  both  of  us  to  live 
under  the  same  roof,"  said  Darrell,  contemptuously,  with  a 
gesture  of  disgust. 

"Good-by,  mother;  good-by,  my  sisters;  good-by,  boys — take 
care  of  mother  and  the  girls.  God  bless  you." 


284  THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

With  a  piercing  cry,  that  rang  through  the  house,  Alice 
ran  to  Clarence,  and  throwing  her  arms  around  his  neck, 
said : 

"Kiss  me,  my  darling,  for  if  you  leave  us  I  shall  be 
wretched  until  you  return.  Oh !  I  can't  let  you  go." 

Tenderly  Clarence  pressed  his  sister  to  his  heart.  He  felt 
her  arms  relaxing,  her  head  fell  back,  and  she  closed  her  eyes. 
Lovingly  he  then  lifted  her,  and  placing  her  upon  a  lounge, 
said: 

"Alice  has  fainted,  mother.  My  sweet  sister,  how  dearly  I 
love  her,  God  only  knows." 

He  covered  her  face  with  kisses,  while  his  own  was  bathed 
in  tears.  Without  lifting  his  eyes  or  saying  another  word,  he 
walked  out  into  the  darkness. 

The  delicious,  fragrant  air,  loaded  with  the  perfume  of  roses 
and  honeysuckle  and  heliotrope,  seemed  to  breathe  a  farewell 
caress  over  his  heated  brow,  and  the  recollection  of  the  loving 
care  he  had  bestowed  upon  these  flowers  when  he  planted 
them  to  welcome  his  mother,  flashed  through  his  memory 
with  a  pang.  He  sighed  and  passed  into  the  gloom,  over 
powered  with  a  dread  that  made  him  feel  chilled  to  the  heart. 
It  seemed  to  him  as  if  an  unseen  voice  was  warning  him  of  a 
dire  misfortune  he  could  not  perceive  nor  avert.  What  could 
it  be?  Wa",  Mercedes  to  be  taken  from  him?  Would  her 
family  object  to  him  on  account  of  his  father's  ruffianly  be 
havior?  Could  he  claim  to  be  a  gentleman,  being  the  son  of 
that  rough  ?  These  thoughts  flashed  through  his  mind,  filling 
him  with  sickening  dismay  and  inexpressible  disgust.  Would 
he  dare  stand  in  the  presence  of  Mercedes  now?  Or,  would 
he  return  to  town  at  this  late  hour?  Where  could  he  go  for  a 
shelter  that  night? 

Mechanically  he  walked  to  the  phaeton,  got  into  it  and  took 
the  reins  to  drive  off. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

SHALL  IT  BE  FOREVER? 

Everett  followed  Clarence  and  got  into  the  phaeton  with  him 

"  My  dear  brother,"  said  Clarence,  in  a  hoarse  voice  that 
sounded  unnatural,  as  if  coming  from  a  great  depth,  "  I  would 
like  to  have  your  company,  but  as  I  am  not  coming  back,  I 
can't  take  you  with  me." 

"No  matter;  drive  off.  I'll  go  with  you  a  little  ways,  and 
will  walk  back,"  said  Everett.  Clarence  turned  his  horses  and 
drove  away  through  the  middle  drive  in  the  front  lawn,  and 
was  out  of  the  gate  before  he  fully  realized  that  he  himself  was 
driven  away  from  the  paternal  roof. 

"  Retty,  you  did  not  tell  me  that  my  father  had  insulted  my 
darling  so  grossly.  I  wish  you  had,  for  I  would  not  have  gone 
inside  the  house,"  Clarence  said,  with  a  sigh. 

"  It  was  so  horrible,  I  couldn't.     Forgive  me,  dear  Clary." 

"Certainly;  I  can't  blame  you." 

"Are  you  going  to  Don  Mariano's  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  will  ask  Tano  to  give  me  a  place  to  sleep;  that  is, 
if  Dona  Josefa  is  not  too  disgusted  to  tolerate  a  Darrell  under 
her  roof." 

"  I  am  sure  they  feel  nothing  but  kindness  for  you." 

"I  hope  so;  but  should  she  wish  to  break  the  engagement, 
I  will  not  stay.  I'll  drive  to  town  to-night  and  take  the  boat 
for  San  Francisco,  which  is  not  to  leave  until  to-morrow  at  day 
light.  I'll  have  time,  I  think." 

"  Don't  do.  that.     Wait  for  the  Don,  if  he  is  not  in  now." 

"  I  may,  but  I  don't  know.  I  dread  to  see  Mercedes.  I 
feel  so  humiliated,  so  ashamed.  What  can  I  say  to  her?" 


286  THE    SQUATTER    AND   THE   DON. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  Clarence  stopped  his  horses  to  send  to 
his  mother  and  sisters — especially  to  Alice — loving  messages. 
He  also  said  if  he  should  miss  seeing  Don  Mariano,  Everett 
would  say  that  he  would  write  from  San  Francisco,  and  would 
return  at  any  moment,  if  Mercedes  called  him. 

"  But  you  will  see  her  yourself,"  Everett  said. 

"I  hope  so,"  said  the  disheartened  Clarence,  driving  up 
toward  the  house  in  which  he  felt  his  fate  would  be  decided. 
Victoriano  had  heard  the  phaeton's  wheels  and  came  out  to 
meet  it. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you,  old  fellow,"  said  he  to  Clarence; 
"  it  seems  an  age  since  sundowrn." 

"I  was  detained  in  town  about  that  business  of  Don  Gabriel, 
but  it  is  all  arranged.  He  can  take  his  place  at  the  bank  now, 
whenever  he  wishes,  or  wait  until  the  ist  of  October;  it  will  be 
kept  for  him.  Then  I  had  my  own  business  about  the  mine. 
That  is  all  right,  too.  I  only  wish  that  things  had  gone  on  as 
well  at  home." 

"  So  do  I,  but  it  has  been  awful.     Retty  told  you." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  all  now." 

"  Unfortunately  I  did  not  tell  him  father's  insulting  remarks 
about  Miss  Mercedes,"  sadly  observed  Everett. 

"Yes,  had  I  known  that,  I  would  not  have  gone  into  the 
house.  But  I  went,  and  father  had  the  satisfaction  of  saying  it 
to  me  himself;  and  on  my  telling  him  what  I  thought  about  it, 
he  expressed  himself  willing  that  I  should  take  myself  off.  So 
here  I  am,  driven  from  home,  and  I  came  to  ask  you  for  a  bed 
to-night,  as  I  am  very  tired." 

"And  hungry,  too.  Father  spoiled  his  supper  with  his  cour 
teous  remarks,"  added  Everett. 

"  Come,  my  dear  boy;  no  one  is  more  welcome  to  this  whole 
house,"  Victoriano  said,  with  true  Spanish  hospitality,  much 
intensified  by  present  circumstances.  "Come;  father  will  soon 
be  here.  At  present,  Mercedes,  Madame  Halier  Milord  and 
myself  only  are  at  home.  Mother  and  the  rest  are  at  the 
Mechlins.  Come  in;  come,  Retty." 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  287 

"No.     I'll  say  good-by  to  Clary  now  and  walk  home." 

"But  this  is  awful,"  Victoriano  said,  as  if  beginning  to  real 
ize  the  situation.  "For  Heaven's  sake,  where  are  you  going? 
And  why  must  you  go?" 

"I  will  not  if  Mercedes  does  not  send  me  away.  If  she 
does,  I  shall  go  first  to  San  Francisco,  and  thence  God  only 
knows  where,"  was  Clarence's  reply. 

"She  won't  send  you  away;  she  shan't.  If  you  only  knew 
how  the  poor  little  thing  cried,  so  that  this  morning  literally 
she  could  not  see  out  of  her  eyes,  you  would  then  know  how 
she  feels.  She  told  me  that  if  she  lost  all  hope  of  being  your 
wife  she  would  lie  down  and  die.  She  felt  better  this  morn 
ing  when  father  left,  as  he  told  her  he  would  arrange  everything 
with  you  so  that  the  wedding  should  not  be  postponed.  Then 
she  was  comforted  and  went  to  sleep.  "But —  And  Victo 
riano  stopped. 

"But  what?     Better  tell  me  all,  dear  Tano,"  said  Clarence. 

"Well,  I  was  going  to  say  that  she  is  again  unhappy  because 
Lotte  and  Rosy  told  her  what  your  father  said.  She  had  not 
heard  that  part  of  the  trouble  before." 

Clarence  stood  silent  with  one  foot  upon  the  first  step.  He 
was  calculating  the  chances  against  him.  He  turned  to  Victo 
riano,  and,  with  a  sickly  smile  that  was  truly  painful  to  see, 
said: 

"My  heart  misgives  me,  dear  Tano;  I  cannot  blame  her  if 
she  considers  my  father's  words  unpardonable." 

"But  they  were  not  your  words,"  Everett  interposed.  "You 
are  not  to  blame  if  your  father  forgets  himself  and  makes  a 
brute  of  himself.  I  almost  hate  him.  Courage,  dear  Clary." 

"Yes, remember, 'Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady,'"  Victoriano 
added,  and  the  quotation  brought  such  sweet  recollections  to 
poor  Clarence's  troubled  mind,  that  he  staggered  as  he  went 
up  the  steps.  But,  with  a  renewed  effort  over  himself,  he 
managed  to  stand  firmly,  and  to  say  to  Everett: 

"  I  suppose  we  must  part  now,  dear  brother." 

Everett  threw  his  arms  around  him,  and  for  a  few  moments 
both  brothers  held  each  other  in  close,  silent  embrace. 


288  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

"Cheer  up,  boys.  Don't  think  you  are  to  part,"  said  Victo- 
riano,  with  assumed  cheerfulness.  "You  must  come  to  break 
fast  with  us  to-morrow  Retty.  When  father  comes  he  and 
Clary  will  concoct  some  plan  so  as  not  to  postpone  the  wed 
ding.  Come,  I'll  take  you  home.  I'll  let  Mercedes  know  first 
that  Clarence  is  here."  So  saying  he  walked  into  the  house. 
Returning  in  a  few  moments,  he  said : 

"Walk  in,  Clary.  Mercedes  will  be  in  the  parlor  in  a  min 
ute.  Now,  Retty,  I'll  take  you  home." 

While  both  drove  to  the  Darrells,  Clarence  went  in  the  par 
lor  to  wait  with  beating  heart  Mercedes'  coming.  He  walked 
about  the  room  looking  at  every  object  in  it  without  seeing 
anything.  When  he  heard  the  rustle  of  her  dress,  he  stood  by 
the  piano  with  his  arms  crossed  over  his  breast  as  if  trying  to 
compress  the  wild  throbbing  of  his  heart.  He  was  pale  to  the 
lips  and  his  eyes  had  an  expression  of  longing,  of  beseeching 
tenderness,  that  was  far  more  sad  and  eloquent  than  tears 
would  have  been.  Mercedes  came  in,  followed  by  her  faithful 
Milord,  who,  seeing  that  Clarence  paid  no  attention  to  him, 
turned  up  his  nose  in  mild  resentment  and  went  to  lie  down 
upon  the  rug  in  front  of  the  fireplace.  She  offered  to  Clarence 
her  hand  in  silence.  In  silence  he  took  it,  kissed  it  and  led 
her  to  a  sofa,  sitting  down  by  her  side.  She  was  the  first  to 
speak.  Looking  into  his  eyes,  she  said  : 

"Clarence,  must  we  part?  I  have  such,  faith  in  your  truth 
that  I  believe  you  will  candidly  tell  me  your  opinion,  even  if  it 
kills  both  of  us.  Am  I  right?" 

"My  darling,  what  is  it?  Do  not  put  me  to  a  test  that  may 
be  too  hard,  for  I  tell  you  frankly  I  can  give  up  my  life,  but 
not  my  love.  Not  you !  my  own !  Oh,  no ;  anything  but 
that.  Not  that."  So  saying,  he  took  both  her  hands — the 
beauty  of  which  he  so  loved — and  kissed  them  warmly,  all  the 
time  fearing  that  if  she  said  to  him  that  she  must  break  off 
their  engagement,  he  must  submit,  as  he  could  not  blame  her 
if  she  considered  him  beneath  her  love.  "What  is  it  you  wish 
to  ask  me?  Oh,  my  angel!  be  merciful !" 


THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  289 

"I  wish  to  ask  you  what  must  I  do  when  your  father  has 
said  such  frightful  things  to  my  papa?  Am  I  obliged  and  in 
duty  bound  to  decline  a  tie  which  will  create  any  relationship 
with  him?" 

Clarence  was  silent,  still  holding  the  dear  little  hands.  His 
face  flushed  with  shame,  but  became  pale  again  as  he  replied  •* 
"It  would  have  been  more  difficult  to  solve  that  problem  if 
my  father  himself  had  not  done  so  by  driving  me  off.  I  am 
exiled  now — driven  away  from  home.  I  doubt  whether  he 
would  consider  you  related  to  him  by  being  my  wife  now." 

"I  am  glad  of  that,"  said  she,  quickly,  but  then   checking 
herself,  and  a  little  abashed  by  what  she  thought  the  hasty  ex 
pression  of  a  selfish  feeling,  she  said:  "Forgive  me;  I  don't 
mean  I  am  glad  he  should  drive  you  away,  but  that  since  he 
has  cut  you  off — and  yet — he  cannot  do  that.    How  can  he  ?" 
"He  has  done  so.     That  proves  he  can,  doesn't  it?" 
"No,  Clarence.     No  matter  what  he  does  he  is  still  your 
father." 

Clarence  leaned  his  head  back  on  the  sofa  and  looked  at 
the  chandelier  in  silence  for  some  moments,  then  said : 

"Yes,  he  is  my  father,  but  not  the  father  he  used  to  be.  There 
are  different  kinds  of  fathers.  Some  are  kind  and  good,  others 
are  most  unnatural  and  cruel.  Are  they  entitled  to  the  same 
love  and  respect?" 

"But  was  he  ever  cruel  to  you  before?" 
"Never.     He  has  been  always  most  kind  and  indulgent  to 
all  his  children,  but  especially  so  to  Alice  and  myself." 

"Then,  Clarence,  for  this  one  fault,  all  his  life  of  kindness 
and  devotion  must  not  be  forgotten." 

"Oh,  my  darling!  are  you  going  to  plead  for  him  and 
forget  my  misery?  My  heart  is  bleeding  yet  with  the  pain 
of  leaving  home,  and  if  your  indulgence  to  him  means  that  I 
must  bear  the  burden  of  his  fault,  /  then  —I  must  suffer 
alone!" 

"I  do  not  wish  you  to  suffer  at  all.  If  there  is  to  be  any 
suffering,  I  shall  share  it  with  you.  No.  All  I  say  is  that  if 


290  THE    SQUATTER    AND   THE   DON. 

Mr.  Darrell  is  so  angry  at  my  papa  and  myself,  we  had  better 
postpone  our  wedding  until — " 

Clarence  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  with  hands  pressed  to  his 
forehead,  began  pacing  the  room,  greatly  agitated,  but  without 
speaking  a  word. 

"Clarence,  hear  me.     It  will  only  be  for  a  little  while." 

He  shook  his  head,  and  continued  his  walk — his  mind  a 
prey  to  the  wildest  despair. 

"Would  it  not  be  very  unbecoming  for  us  to  marry  now, 
and  your  family  not  be  present  at  the  wedding?" 

"Why  shouldn't  they  be  present?  All  would  be  but  father, 
and  in  the  furious  state  of  his  feelings  he  had  better  be  away — 
a  great  deal  better — far,  far  away." 

"  Since  he  is  so  furious,  I  don't  think  he  would  like  his  wife 
and  children  to  be  at  our  wedding." 

"Mercedes,  tell  me  frankly,"  said  he,  resuming  his  place 
at  her  side:  "tell  me,  has  my  father's  outrageous  conduct 
made  me  lose  caste  in  your  estimation?  If  so,  I  shall  not 
blame  you,  because  when  a  man  acts  so  ungentlemanly,  so 
ruffianly,  it  is  fair  to  suppose  that  his  sons  might  do  the 
same." 

"Never!  Such  an  idea  never  entered  my  mind.  How 
could- it?"  said  Mercedes,  with  great  earnestness. 

"If  it  did  not,  it  is  because  you  are  good  and  generous. 
Still,  perhaps,  it  is  selfish  in  me  to  keep  you  to  your  engage 
ment  with  the  son  of  such  a  rough.  I  release  you,  Mercedes. 
You  are  free,"  he  said,  and  he  closed  his  eyes  and  leaned  his 
head  again  on  the  back  of  the  sofa.  A  sensation  of  icy  cold 
ness  came  over  him,  and  he  thought  that  death  must  come 
like  that.  But  for  all  that  mental  agony,  he  still  thought  Mer 
cedes  would  be  right  in  rejecting  him. 

The  whole  scene  as  described  to  him  by  Everett,  when  his 
father  was  uttering  those  low  insults  to  Don  Mariano,  came 
vividly  before  him,  and  he  thought  it  would  be  impossible  for 
Mercedes  not  to  feel  a  sense  of  humiliation  in  uniting  herself 
to  him — he,  the  son  of  that  brutish  fellow — that  rough.  He 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  2Q1 

arose,  and  his  pallor  was  so  great  that  Mercedes  thought  he 
must  be  ill. 

"Mercedes,  we  part  now.     Heaven  bless  you." 

"Clarence,  you  are  ill.  What  do  you  mean?  Will  you  not 
wait  for  papa?" 

"  No.     I  had  better  go  now." 

"You  misunderstood  me,  I  think,  else  how  could  you  think 
of  going?" 

"Did  you  not  say  that  our  wedding  had  better  be  post 
poned  ?  And  does  that  not  mean  that  it  may  never,  never 
be?" 

"Why  should  it  mean  that?" 

"  Because,  how  can  we  measure  the  duration  of  an  anger  so 
senseless?  It  might  last  years.  No,  Mercedes,  I  feel  that  you 
have  the  right  to  reject  me.  I  shall  be  so  very  wretched  with 
out  you,  that  I  would  beg  and  entreat,  but — " 

"Clarence,  I  do  not  reject  you,  and  I  have  no  right,  no  wish, 
to  do  so.  Please  do  not  say  that." 

"Will  you  be  mine — my  wife — after  all  the  ruffianly  words 
my  father  has  said?" 

"Certainly.     Why  should  I  blame  you?" 

"My  own,  my  sweet  wife.  Oh!  how  dearly  I  love  you! 
The  strength  of  my  love  makes  my  heart  ache.  Will  you  call 
me  when  you  think  you  can  consent  to  our  wedding?" 

"What  do  you  mean  by  asking  if  I  will  call  you?" 

"I  mean  that  if  our  marriage  is  to  be  postponed,  I  shall 
leave  you,  but  shall  be  ready  to  obey  your  call,  and  I  pray  I 
may  not  wait  for  it  a  long  time.  And  I  say  this,  also,  that  if 
upon  reflection  you  decide  to  cast  me  off,  I  shall  not  com 
plain,  because — because  my  father  has  lowered  me.  I  am  not 
the  same  Clarence  I  was  two  days  ago.  You  cannot  feel  proud 
of  me  now." 

"But  I  do.  Please  do  not  say  those  dreadful  things.  Why 
should  you  go  away?" 

"Because  it  is  best,  as  long  as  our  marriage  is  to  be  post 
poned.  My  presence  here  will  be  a  cause  of  irritation  to  my 


2Q 2  THE   SQUATTER    AND   THE   DON. 

father,  and  goodness  knows  what  he  might  not  do  in  his  angry 
mood.  If  you  would  not  feel  humiliated  by  marrying  me,  the 
best  thing  would  be  to  have  a  quiet  wedding  immediately,  with 
only  the  members  of  your  family  present,  and  not  invite  guests 
at  all,  and  then  we  would  take  the  steamer  to  San  Francisco, 
and  go  to  oui  home  there." 

"I  don't  think  mamma  would  consent  to  that." 

"Then,  my  darling,  I  must  leave  you  now.  I  will  return  to 
town,  and  take  the  steamer  which  leaves  at  daylight,  I  shall 
abide  implicitly  by  what  you  decide.  Make  known  your  wish 
es,  and  I  shall  obey." 

"You  are  offended,  Clarence,  and  I  do  not  know  how  I 
have  incurred  your  displeasure,"  she  said  in  those  tones  of  her 
voice  which  were  the  most  thrilling  to  him — most  sure  of  go 
ing  straight  to  his  heart. 

Silently  he  approached  her,  and  kneeling  at  her  feet,  he  put 
his  arms  around  the  slender  and  graceful  form  he  idolized  so 
fervently.  He  rested  his  head  on  her  shoulder  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  then  with  a  sigh,  that  seemed  to  come  from  his  very 
soul,  he  said: 

"I  am  not  offended,  my  sweet  rosebud,  but  I  am  very  mis 
erable.  Pity  me.  You  see,  on  my  knees  I  beg  you  to  marry 
me  now — immediately — in  two  days.  If  not,  I  must  go  now — 
to-night.  Say,  will  you  marry  me,  as  I  beg  of  you?" 

"Oh,  Clarence,  why  do  you  ask  me?  How  can  I  tell?  You 
will  have  to  ask  papa  and  mamma." 

"Will  they  consent?" 

"Papa,  perhaps ;  but  I  fear  mamma  will  not  approve  of  such 
a  hasty  marriage." 

"That  is  so.  Perhaps  I  am  unreasonable.  Good-by,  my 
beloved.  Will  you  call  me  back  soon?" 

"Clarence,  you  are  not  going?     How  can  you?" 

"I  must.  Do  not  ask  me  to  remain,  under  the  circum 
stances*  unless  it  is  to  make  you  my  wife.  I  cannot." 

He  pressed  her  to  his  heart  in  a  long,  tender  embrace.  He 
arose,  and  gazed  at  her  sweet  face  so  sadly,  that  she  felt  a  pang 
of  keen  distress  and  apprehension. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  293 

"Clarence,  do  not  look  at  me  so  sadly.  Please  remain  un 
til  papa  comes.  Do  not  go.  You  might  never  see  him." 

"I  must,  or  I  will  lose  the  steamer.  Farewell,  my  own 
sweet  love." 

He  clasped  her  to  his  heart,  and  wildly  covered  her  face 
with  kisses.  Then,  without  daring  to  look  back,  hurried 
out  of  the  room  into  the  hall,  across  the  piazza  and  down 
the  garden-path  to  the  gate,  where  his  phaeton  had  been  left 
by  Victoriano,  after  having  taken  Everett  home. 

"She  must  naturally  hesitate  to  marry  the  son  of  a  man  who 
can  act  and  has  acted  as  my  father  did.  I  cannot  blame  her. 
I  ought  to  respect  her  for  it.  Oh,  pitying  God !  how  wretched 
I  am !  Farewell,  happiness  for  me." 

Muttering  this  short  soliloquy,  Clarence  drove  quickly 
down  the  incline  leading  to  the  main  road. 

When  the  last  sound  of  his  footsteps  died  away,  a  feeling  of 
utter  desolation  rushed  upon  Mercedes.  The  silence  of  the 
house  was  appalling.  In  that  silence,  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  a 
life  of  lonely  misery  was  suddenly  revealed.  To  lose  Clar 
ence,  was  to  lose  happiness  forevermore.  Shocked  and  ter 
rified  at  her  loneliness,  with  no  hope  of  seeing  him  again,  she 
rushed  out  and  ran  to  the  gate,  calling  him.  She  saw  that 
he  was  driving  fast,  and  would  soon  be  crossing  the  dry  bed  of 
the  brook  to  take  the  main  road.  Once  there  he  would  be  too 
far  to  hear  her  voice.  She  ran  out  of  the  gate  and  turned  to  the 
right  into  a  narrow  path  that  also  led  to  the  main  road,  going 
across  the  hill  through  the  low  bushes  and  a  few  elder  trees 
near  the  house,  thus  cutting  off  more  than  half  the  distance. 
Loudly  she  called  his  name,  again  and  again,  running  in 
the  narrow  path  as  fast  as  her  strength  allowed.  She  heard 
the  sound  of  the  phaeton's  wheels  as  they  grated  harshly 
on  the  pebbles  of  the  brook,  and  then  all  was  silent  again. 

"Oh,  my  darling  is  gone,"  said  she,  and  the  ground  swelled 
and  moved  under  her  feet,  and  the  trees  went  round  in  mad 
circles,  and  she  knew  no  more.  She  had  fallen  down  fainting, 
with  no  one  near  her  but  her  faithful  Milord,  who  had  followed 
her,  and  now  nestled  by  her  side. 


294  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

Clarence  had  heard  her  voice  call  to  him,  and  tried  to  turn 
his  horses  immediately,  but  they  were  going  down  the  hill  too 
fast  to  turn  without  danger  of  upsetting;  he  saw  he  must  first 
get  to  the  foot  of  the  hill,  and  turn  when  he  reached  the 
brook.  He  did  so,  and  with  heart-throbs  of  renewed  hope, 
he  re-ascended  the  hill  and  hurried  to  the  house.  At  the  door 
he  met  Madam  Halier,  who  was  blinking  at  the  hall  lamp  as 
if  just  awakened  from  a  sound  sleep.  Clarence  asked  for  Miss 
M'crcedes. 

"I  think  madamoiselle  has  just  gone  down  to  Madame 
Mechlin's.  I  heard  her  calling  Tano,  and  that  woke  me  up. 
I  had  just  dropped  off  into  a  short  nap  of  five  minutes— yktf 
five  minutes." 

"I  thought  I  heard  her  voice  in  this  direction,"  said  Clar 
ence,  pointing  to  the  opposite  side. 

"Oh,  no.  I  think  she  was  afraid  to  go  to  Mrs.  Mechlin's 
alone,  and  she  called  her  brother.  But  she  has  been 
anxious  to  see  you  all  day.  I  will  send  a  servant  to  say 
you  have  come.  Walk  in.  Had  you  a  pleasant  drive  from 
town?" 

"Madam,  I  have  seen  Miss  Mercedes  since  my  return 
from  town.  I  had  said  farewell,  and  was  driving  away, 
when  I  thought  I  heard  her  voice  calling  me.  Perhaps  I 
was  mistaken,  but  I  think  not.  Where  has  she  gone,  I 
wonder?" 

"To  Madam  Mechlin's,  monsieur." 

"Be  it  so.  Good-by,  madam,"  said  he,  extending  his 
hand. 

"But  will  you  not  wait  for  madamoiselle?" 

"No,  madam;  if  she  did  not  call  me,  I  need  not  wait." 

This  time  Clarence  drove  slowly  down  the  hill,  looking  at 
both  sides  of  the  road,  peering  under  the  trees  and  bushes, 
still  impressed  with  the  idea  that  he  might  see  her  form  or 
hear  her  voice.  The  moon  was  just  rising,  casting  long 
shadows  as  it  arose,  but  the  shadow  of  that  beloved,  graceful 
form  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  This  added  disappointment  was 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  295 

added  bitterness  to  his  cup  of  misery,  and  he  began  to  feel  sick 
in  body  and  mind,  and  he  saw  in  himself  a  most  wretched  out 
cast. 

Tano  and  Dona  Josefa  now  came  and  saw  the  phaeton 
ascending  the  hill  on  the  other  side  of  the  brook. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 
HASTY  DECISIONS  REPENTED  LEISURELY. 

When  Victoriano  had  left  Everett  at  his  front  door,  exacting 
the  promise  that  he  would  come  to  breakfast  with  Clarence 
next  morning,  he  merely  delayed  long  enough  to  learn  that 
Alice  was  quiet,  and  Mrs.  Darrell  thought  that  with  a  night's 
rest  she  would  be  well  next  day.  He  then  drove  back  home, 
and  thinking  that  Clarence  was  going  to  stay,  left  the  phaeton 
at  the  front  gate  to  run  down  through  the  side  gate  to  Mrs. 
Mechlin's,  to  call  his  mother  and  say  to  her  that  Clarence  had 
been  sent  off  by  his  father,  and  had  come  to  their  house  to 
pass  the  night.  But  as  he  hurried  through  the  front  garden, 
Victoriano  remembered  that  the  horses  had  to  be  put  in  the 
stable  and  taken  care  of,  so  he  went  in  the  kitchen  to  tell  a 
servant  he  must  attend  to  the  horses  immediately. 

"  Yes,  patroncitO)  I'll  do  it  right  away,"  said  the  lazy  Indian, 
who  first  had  to  stretch  himself  and  yawn  several  times,  then 
hunt  up  tobacco  and  cigarette  paper,  and  smoke  his  cigar 
ette.  This  done,  he,  having  had  a  heavy  supper,  shuffled 
lazily  to  the  front  of  the  house,  as  Clarence  was  driving  down 
the  hill  for  the  second  time,  and  Dona  Josefa  and  Victoriano 
returning  from  Mrs.  Mechlin,  came  in  through  the  garden  side 
gate. 

"Who  is  going  in  that  carriage?"  was  the  first  question  put 
by  Victoriano  to  Madame  Halier. 

"It  is  Monsieur  Clarence." 

"And  where  is  Mercedes?" 

"She  called  you  to  go  to  Madame  Mechlin's." 

"No  such  thing,"  said  Victoriano,  going  to  look  in  the  par 
lor;  returning  immediately  to  renew  his  questions. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  297 

But  the  madam e  could  do  no  more  than  repeat  all  she 
knew,  which  was  little  enough,  and  that  little  thoroughly 
mixed  in  her  mind. 

All  that  Victoriano  and  Dona  Josefa  could  ascertain,  with 
some  clearness,  was  that  Clarence  was  going,  and  had  come 
back,  thinking  that  Mercedes  had  called  him,  but  that  on  be 
ing  told  that  Mercedes  had  called  Tano  to  accompany  her  to 
Mrs.  Mechlin's,  he  had  gone  away. 

"I  must  overtake  Clarence.  There  is  some  misunderstand 
ing  here,  that  is  plain,"  said  Victoriano,  going  to  the  back 
piazza  to  call  a  servant. 

This  time  Chapo  came  a  little  quicker,  not  knowing  whether 
he  would  be  to  blame,  because  the  Americano  went  off  with 
his  horses  before  he  had  time  to  put  them  in  the  stable. 

"Bring  me  my  bay  horse,  saddled,  in  two  minutes,  do  you 
hear?  Two  minutes — not  two  hours — go  quick." 

"We  cannot  find  Mcrcita.  She  is  not  in  the  house,"  said 
Dona  Josefa  to  her  son,  much  alarmed. 

"She  must  be,  mother.  Call  the  other  girls.  Look  again 
for  her.  I  must  run  after  Clarence,  and  learn  why  he  is  go 
ing,  instead  of  passing  the  night  here." 

Fifteen  minutes  after  Clarence  had  left,  Victoriano  was  gal 
loping  behind  him,  wondering  why  he  could  not  see  him  any 
where  on  the  road. 

Madame  Halier  and  Dona  Josefa  continued  looking  for 
Mercedes  most  anxiously,  but  in  vain.  George  now  came  up, 
and  joined  in  the  search  for  the  missing  girl. 

As  Victoriano  crossed  the  brook  and  ascended  the  hill  be 
yond  it,  Don  Mariano  and  Gabriel  came  up  into  the  court 
yard.  They  immediately  hurried  into  the  house,  Don  Mari 
ano  knowing  that  Mercedes  would  be  anxious  for  him  to  talk 
with  Clarence. 

Dona  Josefa  and  the  madame  met  them  at  the  door,  and 
related  as  well  as  they  knew  all  that  had  occurred.  They  all 
agreed  that  the  matter  had  better  be  kept  from  the  servants,  if 
possible,  and  they  all  went  out  by  the  front  gate  again,  since 


298  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

it  was  useless  to  search  in  the  direction  of  Mrs  Mechlin's 
house.  Don  Mariano  and  Gabriel  saw  George  follow  the 
path  to  the  right  and  disappear.  They  followed  him.  George 
had  heard  the  barking  of  a  dog  in  the  distance,  and  at  first 
paid  no  attention  to  it,  but  when  the  barking  would  be  fol 
lowed  by  most  piteous  howls,  he  listened,  and  thought  he  rec 
ognized  the  plaintive  whining  of  Milord.  He  followed  the 
path,  and  as  he  did  so,  came  nearer  to  the  barking,  arid  soon 
after  Milord  himself  met  him,  with  demonstrations  of  great 
satisfaction. 

George  had  no  doubt  now  of  finding  Mercedes.  He  let 
Milord  be  the  guide,  and  run  ahead,  he  following.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  saw  something  white  on  the  ground,  and  immedi 
ately  after  recognized  Mercedes'  form  lying  motionless  across 
the  path,  as  she  had  fallen.  In  a  moment  George  had  lifted 
her  insensible  form  in  his  arms,  calling  out  he  had  found  her. 

Don  Mariano  ran  to  him,  but  Gabriel,  being  more  active, 
passed  him,  and  was  quickly  at  George's  side,  gazing  anxiously 
at  his  sister's  face. 

"Give  her  to  me,  George,"  said  Don  Mariano,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper,  for  he  was  so  agitated  he  could  scarcely  speak.  "Give 
my  baby  to  me." 

"Wait  a  little  while.  I'll  carry  her  a  little  longer,"  said 
George,  holding  the  unconscious  girl. 

"  Father  is  too  agitated  to  be  steady  enough  just  now,"  said 
Gabriel.  "I'll  carry  her." 

"Let  me  see  her  face,  for  God's  sake!  Has  she  no  life?" 
Don  Mariano  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  yes.  She  has  fainted  only.  We  will  soon  restore  her 
to  consciousness.  Don't  be  alarmed.  I  think  the  parting  with 
Clarence  has  nearly  killed  her — but  she  is  alive,"  George 
said. 

"But  why  did  they  part?  Why  did  he  go?"  Don  Mariano 
asked. 

"That  is  as  much  a  mystery  to  me  as  to  you,"  George  re 
plied. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  299 

The  fainting  girl  was  tenderly  placed  in  her  bed,  a*d  all  the 
care  that  loving  hearts  could  bestow  was  lavished  on  her.  But 
nearly  two  hours  elapsed  before  she  returned  to  conscious 
ness.  Then,  after  looking  vaguely  about  the  room  for  some 
minutes,  an  expression  of  pain  came  over  her  face,  and  look 
ing  at  her  father,  she  asked  for  Clarence. 

"  Victoriano  has  gone  to  call  him,"  Don  Mariano  replied, 
hoping  that  this  little  fiction  would  come  true,  and  believing  it 
would  if  Victoriano  could  overtake  the  fugitive. 

"I  am  so  glad,"  she  said,  and  with  a  sigh  closed  her  eyes, 
lying  so  calmly  that  it  was  difficult  to  see  whether  she  had 
relapsed  into  a  swoon,  or  lay  so  quiet  from  sheer  ex 
haustion. 

In  the  meantime,  he  for  whose  love  all  this  misery  was  suf 
fered — and  who  shared  it  fully— was  flying  onward  as  rapidly 
as  a  couple  of  fast  thoroughbreds  could  take  him.  Victoriano 
followed  at  full  gallop,  confident  of  overtaking  him,  or  if  not,  of 
being  in  town  before  the  steamer  left.  But  the  fates  decided 
it  should  not  be  as  the  heart  of  the  anxious  rider  wished,  and 
when  he  rode  up  to  the  wharf  the  steamer  was  leaving  it.  He 
could  see  its  lights  moving  swiftly  away,  and  hear  the  shaking 
and  revolving  of  the  wheels  on  the  smooth  bay,  as  the  black, 
floating  mass  glided  off,  like  a  cruel  monster  swimming  away 
with  the  happiness  of  so  many  loving  hearts. 

Victoriano  stood  looking  at  the  steamer  with  a  disappoint 
ment  so  keen  that  it  seemed  unbearable.  He  could  have  re 
belled  against  any  power.  Then  a  sense  of  realization  of  the 
inevitable  came  like  a  revelation  to  him,  and  he  felt  overpow 
ered,  surrounded  by  dangers  that  he  might  not  avoid,  because 
they  would  come  upon  him  unawares. 

In  this  perturbed  state  of  mind  he  was  still  looking  at  the 
steamer  passing  over  the  moonlit  bay,  when  the  freight  agent 
for  the  steamer  came  to  say  that  Mr.  Darrell  had  left  a  note 
for  him,  and  he  would  bring  it  if  he  waited.  Victoriano  not 
only  would  wait,  but  followed  to  the  door  of  the  freight  office. 

The  agent  said,  as  he  handed  the  note,  that  Mr.  Darrell  had 


300  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

left  orders  at  the  stable  to  keep  the  two  horses  and  phaeton 
until  Don  Victoriano  sent  for  them.  Eagerly  Victoriano  read 
the  note.  It  ran  thus  : 

DEAR  TANO: 

Forgive  me  for  not  waiting  to  bid  you  good-by.  I  feared  to  miss  the 
boat;  and  since  Dona  Josefa  desired  to  postpone  the  wedding,  I  thought 
it  was  best  for  me  to"  be  away,  under  present  circumstances.  It  would  be 
too  unendurable  in  my  painful  humiliation  to  be  constantly  dreading  some- 
other  unexpected  outbreak  from  my  father.  My  presence  would  be  a  source 
of  irritation  to  him,  which  might  lead  to  worse  results. 

Say  to  Don  Mariano  and  Don  Gabriel  I  will  write  to  them  as  soon  as  I 
reach  San  Francisco,  perhaps  before.  My  love  to  all  of  you,  my  good  and 
beloved  friends.  Heaven  bless  you  all. 

I  don't  ask  you  to  think  kindly  of  me,  for  I  know  you  will.  I  feel  sick 
in  mind  and  body;  and  how  I  wish  I  could  have  slept  under  your  hospita 
ble  roof. 

Tell  Retty  to  write  or  telegraph  how  Alice  is.  I  was  so  disappointed 
not  to  find  Miss  Mercedes  when  I  drove  back.  I  had  felt  so  sure  I  heard 
her  voice  calling  me,  that  I  was  faint  with  disappointment  and  thoroughly 
heartsick. 

Good-by,  dear  Tano,  again.     God  bless  you  all. 
Ever  your  true  friend, 

CLARENCE. 

P.  S. — I  leave  you  my  horses  and  phaeton 

There  was  nothing  for  Victoriano  to  do  now  but  return 
home.  He  went  to  the  stable,  ordered  fresh  horses  put  to 
the  phaeton,  and  leaving  his  own  horse  with  the  other  two, 
said  he  would  send  for  them  when  they  were  thoroughly 
rested.  He  went  to  see  Clarence's  horses  himself  to  be  sure  that 
they  were  well  groomed.  Two  men  were  rubbing  them  down, 
and  he  saw  that  neither  of  the  two  fine  animals  had  been  hurt 
by  their  furious  drive.  He  patted  them,  and  they  turned  their 
pretty  heads  and  intelligent  eyes,  expanding  their  nostrils  as 
they  recognized  him. 

Victoriano  was  so  depressed  that  he  felt  a  presentiment  of 
never  more  seeing  Clarence,  He  looked  at  the  two  horses  as 
if  they  were  a  last  token  of  his  friendship,  and  he  hurried  out 
of  the  stable  and  out  of  town  quickly,  to  be  alone  with  the 
silent  moon  and  his  own  thoughts;  his  thoughts  of  Alice, 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  3OI 

of  Clarence  and  Mercedes  going  with  him,  as  he  drove  home. 
But  Victoriano's  thoughts  of  those  three  interesting  persons 
were  shared  by  many  others. 

Don  Mariano  and  Dona  Josefa  sat  by  Mercedes'  bedside. 
Her  heavy  slumber  began  to  alarm  them.  She  lay  motionless, 
with  closed  eyelids,  but  she  was  not  sleeping,  for  she  would 
open  her  eyes  when  they  spoke  to  her. 

About  midnight  Dona  Josefa  asked  her  if  she  had  been 
sleeping.  She  shook  her  head  and  whispered : 

"  I  am  waiting  for  Clarence.  He  is  coming,  sitting  on  a 
water  lily.  I  see  him.  I  am  waiting." 

The  look  of  dismay  that  Dona  Josefa  exchanged  with 
her  husband,  revealed  to  each  other  their  terrible  anxiety 
and  dread. 

"We  must  wait  for  Victoriano,  and  if  Clarence  does  not 
come,  then  we  must  send  for  a  doctor,"  Don  Mariano  whis 
pered. 

But  Mercedes  heard  him,  and  said,  scarcely  audibly:  "He 
will  come.  I  am  waiting.  He  loves  me.  He  don't  want  to 
kill  me." 

When  Victoriano  arrived  it  was  near  daylight,  but  Don  Ma 
riano  was  up  and  came  out  to  meet  him.  Seeing  the  phaeton 
with  only  one  occupant,  he  knew  the  sad  truth.  Victoriano 
gave  him  Clarence's  letter,  which  he  read  with  the  keenest  re 
gret,  feeling  that  if  he  had  stayed  at  home,  as  Mercedes  had 
begged,  Clarence  would  not  have  felt  compelled  to  go,  but 
would  have  been  made  happy  under  that  roof,  as  he  deserved 
to  be.  Vain  regrets  now.  He  was  gone,  and  there  was  noth 
ing  to  be  done  but  wait  until  he  arrived  at  San  Francisco.  It 
would  only  be  a  matter  of  three  days,  Don  Mariano  tried  to 
argue  to  himself,  but  the  experiences  of  the  last  two  days  had 
taught  him  how  much  mischief  might  be  effected  in  a  very 
short  space  of  time. 

When  he  returned  to  Mercedes'  room  he  found  that  she 
was  sleeping,  but  her  sleep  was  restless,  and  now  a  high  fever 
had  set  in.  Her  cheeks  were  like  red  roses,  and  her  pulse 


302  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE    DON. 

beat  with  telegraphic  velocity.  She  moaned  and  moved 
her  head,  as  if  it  pained  her,  but  did  not  awake.  It  was 
evident  that  a  doctor  must  be  sent  for  immediately. 

Victoriano  never  drove  or  rode  past  DarrelPs  house  without 
looking  at  a  certain  window  next  to  that  of  Clarence's  room, 
As  he  came  from  town  now,  before  driving  into  the  court  of 
his  own  house,  he  looked  towards  the  well-known  window.  His 
heart  beat  with  alarm,  seeing  a  light  through  the  shutters. 
Alice  must  be  ill,  he  thought,  and  that  light  has  been  burning 
all  night.  The  lover's  heart  had  guessed  the  truth.  Alice  was 
ill  with  a  raging  fever,  and  when  daylight  came,  instead  of  the 
fever  passing  off,  as  Mrs.  Darrell  had  hoped,  she  became  de 
lirious. 

Victoriano  did  not  go  to  bed.  He  preferred  to  walk  out 
to  the  front  piazza  and  have  another  look  at  that  window  of 
Alice's  room.  Yes  the  light  was  still  burning.  He  felt  sure 
that  she  was  ill.  Was  she  to  be  sick,  and  he  not  able  to  see 
her?  or  inquire  for  her?  How  angry  he  felt  at  old  Darrell. 
Poor  Tano,  he  was  a  prey  to  contending  emotions.  He  now 
wished  to  see  Mercedes,  and  had  told  his  father  that  he  would 
lie  in  one  of  the  hammocks  in  the  veranda,  instead  of  going  to 
bed,  so  that  he  would  be  called  to  Mercedes'  room  as  soon  as 
she  awoke. 

Presently  Don  Mariano  came  and  said  to  him  :  "Victoriano, 
Mercedes  is  awake,  but  so  entirely  out  of  her  head  that  she 
does  not  know  any  one  of  us.  We  must  send  for  a  physician.'' 

"I  will  go  at  once,"  Victoriano  said,  jumping  to  his  feet. 

"  No,  you  have  been  up  all  night.  We  don't  want  too  many 
sick  to  take  care  of.  Gabriel  will  go." 

Victoriano  looked  towards  the  fascinating  window,  and  hes 
itating  a  little,  said : 

"I  am  afraid  Alice  is  sick  too.  Evidently  a  light  has 
been  burning  in  her  room  all  night.  She  fainted  when  Clar 
ence  was  leaving  them,  and  for  the  last  two  days  she  has 
been  so  nervous,  Everett  says,  that  she  was  almost  in  con 
vulsions." 


THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  303 

"There  is  some  one  going  out  in  Clarence's  buggy.  Perhaps 
they  are  sending  for  a  doctor,"  Don  Mariano  said. 

"I  believe  it,"  Victoriano  said,  watching  the  buggy.  It 
is  Everett.  Alice  is  ill,  I  am  sure.  Retty  is  coming  this 
way." 

Everett  was  driving  fast,  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  was  at 
the  gate,  and  coming  to  the  piazza. 

"I  ventured  to  come  up,"  he  said,  "because  I  saw  you 
here.  It  is  a  most  unchristian  hour  to  go  into  a  neighbor's 
house." 

" Is  Alice  sick,  Retty?"  Victoriano  asked,  without  heeding 
Everett's  apology  for  coming. 

"Yes,  she  has  a  high  fever,  and  is  very  delirious.  I  am  go 
ing  for  a  doctor,  but  as  she  has  been  calling  for  Clarence 
most  piteously,  mother  thought  he  would  come  to  see  her/' 

Don  Mariano  and  Victoriano  turned  several  shades  paler 
than  they  were  before,  but  they  related  to  Everett  what  had 
happened,  as  far  as  they  knew.  Still  the  reason  why  Clarence 
left  must  yet  remain  a  mystery  to  them  until  Mercedes  could 
explain  it. 

Everett  was  greatly  disconcerted  and  pained.  He  had 
hoped  to  find  Clarence,  and  as  his  father  seemed  moved  and 
grieved  at  Alice's  illness,  all  the  family  inferred  that  he  would 
be  only  too  glad  to  see  Clarence  restored  to  them. 

"  I  must  hurry  for  a  doctor,"  said  Everett,  with  trembling 
lips,  "and  when  Clarence  arrives  in  San  Francisco  he  will  find 
a  telegram  awaiting  him  there." 

"He  will  find  two,"  said  Don  Mariano. 

"He  can  never  stay  away  if  he  knows  that  Miss  Mercedes 
and  Alice  are  sick — sick  with  grief  at  his  going  from  us,"  Ev 
erett  said;  adding:  "are  you  not  going  to  send  for  a  physician 
for  Miss  Mercedes?" 

"Yes ;  Gabriel  will  go  very  soon,"  Don  Mariano  replied. 

"Who  is  your  doctor?     Can't  I. call  him  for  you  ?" 

On  being  told  the  doctor's  name,  Everett  said  that  he  was 
the  one  he  proposed  to  bring  for  Alice.  Don  Mariano  then 


304  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

wrote  a  line  asking  the  doctor  to  come,  and  Everett  hurried  off 
on  his  sad  errand. 

Clarence  had  passed  the  night  on  deck,  walking  about  in 
the  moonlight,  or  sitting  down  to  muse  by  the  hour,  with  no 
one  near — no  company  but  his  thoughts.  He  felt  ill  and 
weary,  but  wakeful,  and  could  not  bear  to  lie  down  to  rest. 
He  must  be  moving  about  and  thinking.  He  felt  convinced 
that  his  father  had  some  other  cause  of  irritation  than  the 
mere  fact  of  the  land  having  been  paid  for,  but  what  that 
cause  could  be  he  had  not  the  remotest  idea.  Then  his 
thoughts  would  go  back. to  their  center  of  attraction,  and  pass 
in  review,  over  and  over  again,  the  last  scene  at  the  Alamar 
house,  and  every  word  that  Mercedes  had  said.  The  more  he 
reflected  upon  them,  the  clearer  it  seemed  to  him  that  Mer 
cedes  could  not  help  thinking  it  would  be  humiliating  to  marry 
him,  for  how  could  a  lady  marry  the  son  of  a  man  who  used 
such  low  language  ?  And  if  she  did,  out  of  the  purest  devo 
tion  and  tenderest  love,  could  she  avoid  a  feeling  of  loathing 
for  such  a  man?  Certainly  not;  and  such  a  man  was  his  father; 
and  Clarence's  thoughts  traveled  around  this  painful  circle  all 
night. 

On  arriving  at  Wilmington,  he  heard  the  puffing  of  the 
little  tug  boat,  coming  to  ferry  the  passengers  to  Los  Angeles. 
He  had  nothing  to  do  at  Los  Angeles,  but  he  would  go  with 
the  passengers,  rather  than  wait  all  day  in  the  steamer  at 
anchor,  rolling  like  a  little  canoe,  and  whose  fate  was  too 
much  like  his  own — as  he,  too,  was  tossing  over  a  broad  ex 
panse,  a  boundless  ocean,  like  a  block  of  wood,  helpless,  com 
pelled  to  obey,  as  though  he  was  an  infant.  He  took  a  cup 
of  coffee;  and  joined  the  passengers  on  the  little  tug  boat, 
which  was  soon  meandering  over  the  shallow,  muddy  creek, 
or  rather  swamp,  with  its  little  crooked  channels,  which  is  to 
be  made  into  an  harbor,  with  time,  patience  and  money. 

At  Los  Angeles  a  surprise  awaited  Clarence,  an  incident 
which,  coming  after  those  of  the  previous  night,  was  de 
lightful,  indeed.  He  was  sauntering  past  a  hotel,  when  he 
heard  the  well  known  voice  of  Fred  Haverly,  calling  him. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON.  305 

"You  are  the  very  man  I  came  to  see.  I  am  now  expecting 
at  any  moment,  a  dispatch  from  Hubert  in  answer  to  my  in- 
quiiy  for  your  whereabouts, "Fred  said,  conducting  Clarence  to 
his  room,  where  they  could  talk  business  without  being  inter 
rupted. 

The  business  which  brought  Fred  up  from  the  mines  was 
soon  explained,  and  in  conclusion  Fred  said : 

"I  wish  you  could  go  with  me,  see  the  ores  yourself,  and 
talk  with  the  men  who  wish  to  buy  the  mines.  But  the  weather 
is  frightfully  hot,  and  you  are  not  looking  well.  What  is  the 
matter?  May  I  inquire?" 

Clarence  soon  told  Fred  all  that  had  happened  at  home,  and 
how  he  was  exiled,  and  did  not  care  where  he  went.  Fred  was 
truly  distressed,  for  he  had  never  seen  Clarence  take  anything 
so  much  to  heart  and  be  so  cast  down. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we  had  better  do  to-day.  Let  us  take 
a  carriage,  and  go  for  a  drive  among  the  orange  groves.  Then 
we  will  come  back  to  dinner.  After  dinner  we  will  kill  time 
somehow  for  a  couple  of  hours,  then  you  go  to  bed.  To-morrow 
you  will  decide  what  to  do." 

"But  to-morrow  there  will  be  no  steamer  to  take  me  to  San 
Francisco." 

"Then  wait  for  the  next.  The  matters  you  have  under  con 
sideration  are  too  important  to  decide  hastily." 

"  That  is  true.  I  wish  some  one  had  reminded  me  of  that 
fact  last  evening.  I'll  let  the  steamer  go,  and  if  I  do  not  de 
cide  to  go  with  you,  I'll  take  the  next  boat.  But  now,  as  to 
our  drive,  I  think  I  would  rather  have  it  after  I  had  some 
breakfast,  because  I  begin  to  feel  faint,  having  eaten  nothing 
for  twenty-four  hours. 

Clarence  sat  down  to  a  very  nice  breakfast,  but  did  not  suc 
ceed  in  eating  it.  He  had  no  appetite.  All  food  was  dis 
tasteful  to  him.  They  had  their  drive  and  dinner,  and  he 
managed  to  get  some  sleep.  This,  however,  did  not  refresh 
him,  and  he  felt  no  better.  Still,  he  decided  to  go  to  see  his 
"bonanza"  and  talk  with  the  men  who  wished  to  buy  the 


306  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

mines.  If  he  did  not  sell  them,  Fred  thought  stamp  mills 
ought  to  be  put  up,  as  the  ore  heaps  were  getting  to  be  too  high 
and  too  numerous  and  very  rich. 

Clarence  devoted  that  day  to  writing  letters.  He  wrote  to 
his  mother,  Alice  and  Everett,  to  George,  Gabriel  and  Victo- 
riano;  but  his  longest  letters  were  to  Mercedes  and  Don 
Mariano. 

On  the  following  day  he  and  Fred  took  the  stage  for  Yuma. 
When  they  reached  that  point,  the  river  boat  was  about  to  start, 
thus  Clarence  and  Fred  lost  no  time  in  going  up  the  river  to 
their  mines.  But  as  the  navigation  up  the  Colorado  River, 
above  Fort  Yuma,  was  rather  slow,  having  to  steam  against  the 
current  following  the  tortuous  channel  of  that  crooked,  narrow 
stream,  and  the  mines  were  more  than  three  hundred  miles 
from  Yuma  (about  thirty  from  Fort  Mojave),  they  did  not 
arrive  as  soon  as  they  would  have  wished,  and  Clarence  had 
been  stricken  down  with  typhoid  fever  before  they  reached 
their  camp. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 
EFFECT  OF  BAD  PRECEPT  AND  WORSE  EXAMPLE. 

The  whir  of  threshing  machines  was  heard  in  the  valleys 
of  the  Alamar  rancho,  and  wagons  loaded  with  baled  hay 
went  from  the  fields  like  moving  hills.  The  season  had  been 
good,  and  the  settlers,  forgetting  their  past  conduct,  were  be 
ginning  to  calculate  on  the  well-known  good  nature  and  kind 
heart  of  the  Don,  to  get  their  lands  by  purchasing  them  from 
him  at  a  low  price  and  easy  terms  when  he  got  his  patent. 

Gasbang  and  Mathews  were  the  only  ones  who  still  slan 
dered  the  entire  Alamar  family,  in  the  vilest  language,  having 
for  their  instigator  and  legal  adviser  the  little  lawyer,  Peter 
Roper,  protege  of  Judge  Lawlack  and  partner  of  Colonel 
Hornblower. 

Everybody  in  San  Diego  knew  that  Roper  had  made  for 
himself  a  most  discreditable  record,  unblushingly  vaunting  of 
his  degradation,  but  because  he  managed  first  to  become  a 
partner  to  the  pompous  Colonel  Hornblower,  and  then — "for 
some  secret  service  unexpressed" — to  be  a  special  favorite  of 
Judge  Gryllus  Lawlack,  Roper  was  not  only  tolerated  but  well 
treated.  Even  among  the  respectable  people  of  San  Diego 
Roper  had  clients  who,  when  he  was  intoxicated,  or  when  he 
was  obliged  to  keep  his  bed  because,  as  it  often  happened,  he 
had  been  too  severely  whipped  in  some  drunken  brawl,  would 
patiently  wait  for  him  to  get  sober  and  on  his  feet  again.  Why 
did  those  respectable  people  employ  such  a  low,  disreputable 
character?  strangers  in  town  asked.  The  answer  was  :  "  Be 
cause  Roper  says  he  has  so  much  influence  with  the  Judge?"  And 
verily  Roper,  intoxicated  or  sober,  won  his  cases,  for  when  in 
ignorance  of  the  law,  he  made  any  mistakes,  which  he  gener- 


308  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

ally  did,  being  only  an  amateur  lawyer,  the  Judge,  with  his 
rulings,  would  remedy  the  harm  done,  thus  unwittingly,  or  not, 
assisting  Roper,  giving  him  a  seemingly  good  cause  to  boast 
that  he  had  retained  the  fudge,  and  by  so  boasting  get  clients. 
Of  course,  many  of  Judge  Lawlack's  decisions  were  constantly 
reversed,  but  the  serene  majesty  of  the  law  in  his  Honor's 
breast  was  not  in  the  least  disturbed  by  this;  on  the  contrary,  he 
spoke  jestingly  about  being  constantly  reversed,  and  said  jok 
ingly  to  lawyers  that  if  they  desired  to  win  their  suits  they 
should  not  wish  him  to  decide  in  their  favor,  as  the  Supreme 
Court  was  sure  to  reverse  him. 

Nevertheless,  on  the  strength  of  his  vaunted  influence  with 
the  Judge,  Roper  had  gone  to  the  Alamar  rancho  to  solicit  the 
patronage  of  the  settlers.  He  was  willing  to  take  contingent 
fees,  he  said,  as  he  was  sure  to  win. 

"But  what  if  your  friend,  the  Judge,  is  reversed,  as  he  always 
is?"  Roper  would  be  asked. 

"Well,  then  we  will  make  a  motion  for  a  new  trial,  or 
we  will. call  the  same  suit  by  some  other  name,  and  file  a 
new  complaint,  or  do  something  else,  so  as  to  keep  in 
possession  of  the  property.  Possession,  as  long  as  it  lasts,  is 
ownership." 

"But  in  the  end  you  don't  win?" 

"Who  says  we  don't?  Isn't  it  to  win  if  you  keep  in  posses 
sion  as  long  as  you  live?  Or,  any  way,  as  long  as  my  Judge 
is  in  office?  And  in  office  he  shall  be,  for  I  shall  keep  him 
there,  if  I  have  to  swill  whisky  by  the  barrel  in  election  times, 
see  if  I  don't." 

And  with  this  low  bragging  and  bar-room  swagger  Roper 
managed  to  impose  upon  people,  saying  that  his  influence 
kept  the  Judge  in  office,  because  he  had  advocated  his  cause 
and  worked  to  have  him  elected.  So,  with  his  delusive  soph 
istry,  Peter  got  clients  among  the  Alamar  settlers.  While 
making  inquiries  about  the  Alamar  lands  he  came  across  the 
entry  made  by  Don  Mariano  of  the  land  sold  to  Clarence. 
This  discovery  he  communicated  to  Gasbang,  and  we  have 
seen  what  resulted. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  309 

Now  these  two  worthies  were  rejoicing  at  the  effect  they 
had  caused,  and  would  have  been  happier  had  they  known  the 
full  extent  of  the  misery  they  had  inflicted.  They  guessed 
enough,  however,  to  furnish  them  with  matter  for  their  coarse 
jests,  and  Roper  got  intoxicated  to  celebrate  his  triumph.  He, 
of  course,  came  out  of  the  tavern  with  a  black  eye,  but  being 
the  chosen  friend  and  political  factotum  of  the  Judge,  this 
public  degradation  was  kindly  condoned,  and  San  Diego  threw 
its  cloak  over  the  prostrate  Roper,  as  usual,  when  overcome  by 
whisky. 

It  would  have  seemed  unbearable  to  Darrell  if  he  had  known 
how  amused  and  pleased  Roper  and  Gasbang  were  to  know 
that  they  had  brought  trouble  to  the  Alamares,  and  made  him 
ridiculous.  This  additional  misery,  however,  was  fortunately 
spared  to  the  already  much-afflicted,  proud  spirit.  But,  in 
deed,  he  suffered  enough  to  have  satisfied  the  most  relentless 
Nemesis.  No  one  guessed  the  extent  of  his  misery.  In  fact, 
Clarence  was  the  only  one  who  suspected  the  existence  of  some 
secret  source  of  irritation  goading  him,  and  had  that  kind  son 
been  permitted  to  remain  at  home,  he  would  have  coaxed  and 
persuaded  his  father  to  say  what  was  torturing  him.  For  tor 
ture  it  was — mental  and  physical.  A  band  of  purple  and  black 
encircled  his  body,  and  his  arms  were  of  that  same  hue  from 
the  elbow  to  the  shoulder.  The  bruises  made  by  the  tight 
coil  of  the  reata  had  left  a  narrow  ring,  which  became  blacker 
as  it  grew  daily  wider  and  wider.  He  had  done  nothing  to  re 
lieve  the  soreness,  and  he  went  about  aching  so  much  that  he 
could  scarcely  walk,  and  with  a  fever  to  intensify  his  pains,  he 
was  indeed  a  wretched  man.  But  all  this  physical  suffering 
was  nothing  compared  to  the  mental  distress  of  being  bereft 
of  his  wife's  cherished  society.  He  knew  that  Mrs.  Darrell 
was  grieved  to  think  that  he  was  the  cause  of  all  the  unhappi- 
ness  brought  upon  two  innocent  families,  and  this  thought 
almost  made  him  crazy. 

He  was  willing  to  accept  his  bodily  aches  as  a  retributive 
penance  for  his  cruelty 'to  Clarence,  but  to  endure  the  loneli- 


3FO  THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

ness  of  his  room  when  his  infirm  body  could  hardly  bear  the 
weight  of  his  bitter  remorse,  that  indeed  seemed  beyond  hu 
man  strength.  He  would  go  to  his  solitary  bedroom,  close 
the  door,  and  extend  his  aching,  bruised  arms  in  silent  appeal, 
in  mute  supplication  to  the  adored  wife  who  was  now  in  an 
other  room,  at  the  bedside  of  Alice,  forgetful  of  the  entire 
world  except  the  suffering  child  before  her,  and  the  exiled 
one,  for  the  sight  of  whom  her  heart  yearned  with  aching 
pulsations. 

And  where  was  he,  the  best  beloved,  now?  He  lay  on  a 
sick  bed,  delirious,  with  a  raging  fever  that  seemed  to  be  dry 
ing  the  very  fountain  of  his  young  life.  They  had  not  made 
a  very  quick  trip  to  Yuma,  for  the  hot  sands  of  the  desert 
seemed  to  burn  through  the  very  hoofs  of  the  horses,  and  they 
were  obliged  to  stop  at  ten  o'clock  A.M.,  and  not  resume  their 
journey  until  past  three  in  the  afternoon.  The  exposure  to 
this  excessive  heat  was  more  than  Clarence  had  strength  to 
endure,  for  he  was  already  ill  when  he  arrived  at  Los  Angeles. 
He  was  only  partially  conscious  when  they  arrived  at  the  mine, 
and  Fred  now  gave  all  his  time  and  attention  to  the  care  of  his 
friend.  By  a  great  effort  of  his  mind,  Clarence  had  succeeded 
in  impressing  upon  Fred  that  he  was,  on  no  consideration 
whatever,  to  tell  to  his  family  or  write  to  anybody  in  San  Diego 
that  he  was  ill.  "They  must  not  be  made  anxious,"  he  whis 
pered.  "  If  I  get  well,  I'll  tell  them  myself;  if  I  die,  they'll 
know  it  soon  enough."  He  closed  his  eyes,  and  in  a  short 
time  delirium  had  come  to  make  him  forget  how  miserable  he 
was. 

Immediately  Fred  telegraphed  to  Hubert  to  send  the  best 
physician  he  could  induce  to  come  to  that  terribly  hot  climate. 
No  money  or  trouble  was  spared,  for  the  two  brothers  valued 
Clarence  too  highly  to  neglect  anything  that  might  be  for  his 
benefit.  The  doctor  went  at  once.  The  sum  of  five  thousand 
dollars  was  paid  down  to  him,  and  five  thousand  more  he  would 
get  on  his  return  after  leaving  Clarence  out  of  danger,  if  he 
lived. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  311 

In  the  meantime,  his  letters,  sent  from  Los  Angeles,  had 
arrived  at  Alamar,  and  were  answered  immediately.  In  his 
letters  to  Gabriel  and  George,  Clarence  had  explained  that  his 
absence  must  not  make  any  difference  in  the  business  arrange 
ment  they  had  made,  and  the  projected  bank  would  be  estab 
lished  by  George  whenever  he  thought  fit  to  do  so — whenever 
the  prospect  of  the  Texas  Pacific  Railroad  justified  it.  For 
this  purpose,  and  to  pay  for  the  cattle  sent  to  the  mines,  he 
had  instructed  his  banker  to  pay  to  Don  Mariano  three  hun 
dred  thousand  dollars. 

Gabriel  replied,  thanking  him,  and  saying  that  he  would 
adhere  to  the  original  plan  of  going  to  San  Francisco  by  the 
first  of  October,  when  he  hoped  Mercita  would  be  out  of  dan 
ger.  If  Clarence  could  only  have  read  these  letters ! 

George  answered  him  that  he  did  not  intend  returning  to 
New  York  until  Mercita  got  better  (Elvira  not  wishing  to  leave 
home  while  her  sister  was  yet  in  danger),  but  that  he  would  be 
ready  to  return  to  California  and  establish  their  projected  bank 
at  any  time  that  the  business  outlook  justified  it;  that  the 
chances  seemed  much  in  favor  of  the  Texas  Pacific,  and  all 
were  hopeful.  If  Clarence  could  only  have  read  this ! 

Don  Mariano  wrote  a  cheerful  letter,  telling  him  to  return 
at  once.  The  fact  of  the  matter  was  that  he  confidently  ex 
pected  to  see  Clarence's  bright  face  very  soon;  to  see  those 
eyes  of  his,  with  their  brilliant  glow  of  kindness,  emanating 
from  a  generous,  manly  heart.  How  could  it  be  otherwise 
when  all  that  was  necessary  would  be  to  recall  him,  and  re 
called  he  had  been  ? 

But  days  and  days  passed,  and  Clarence  did  not  come,  nor 
any  letters  from  him  either,  and  the  month  of  September, 
which  was  to  have  brought  so  much  happiness,  had  been  passed 
in  sadness,  and  was  now  ending  in  gloom. 

Mercedes  and  Alice  were  no  longer  delirious,  but  their  con 
dition  was  still  precarious,  and  the  anxious  parents  could  not 
lay  aside  their  fears. 

Thus  the  month  of  October  passed,  and  November  came, 


312  THE    SQUATTER    AND   THE   DON. 

bringing  the  United  States  Surveyors  to  measure  the  Alamar 
rancho  in  accordance  with  the  decree  of  the  United  States 
District  Court.  This  advent,  though  fully  expected,  did  not 
fail  to  agitate  the  settlers  of  Alamar.  It  brought  before  their 
minds  the  fact  that  the  law,  though  much  disregarded  and 
sadly  dilatory,  did  sometimes,  as  if  unawares,  uphold  the  right. 

Gasbang  and  Mathews,  inspired  by  Roper,  were  very  active 
in  trying  to  urge  the  settlers  to  some  open  demonstration. 
Roper  wanted  lawsuits,  and  he  saw  a  chance  now  to  originate 
several;  but  the  settlers  were  rather  disposed  to  be  quiet,  and 
disposed  to  wait  until  the  survey  was  finished  and  approved, 
for,  after  all,  what  had  they  to  do  ?  The  Don  took  no  steps 
to  eject  them.  What  pretext  had  they  to  complain  ? 

"  I  expect  we  will  have  to  kick  him  out  of  his  own  house," 
said  Peter  Roper,  and  laughed,  thinking  it  would  be  such  a 

good  joke  to  do  that;  "  and  by ,  if  you  only  show  me  the 

ghost  of  a  chance,  we'll  do  it ! " 

"Why  are  you  the  Don's  enemy,  Roper?  Did  he  ever  do 
you  any  injury?"  Romeo  asked. 

"Oh,  my!  No;  why  should  he?  I  arn  nobody's  enemy; 
but  if  I  can  make  any  money  by  kicking  him  ont  of  his  house, 
don't  you  suppose  I'd  do  it  ?  You  don't  know  me  if  you  think 
I  wouldn't,"  was  Roper's  characteristic  reply. 

But  his  sharp  yellow  eyes  clearly  saw  that  Gasbang  and 
Mathews  were  the  only  ones  really  anxious  to  be  aggressive, 
yet  aggressive  only  according  to  the  natural  bent  of  their  dis 
positions.  Mathews  was  unscrupulous,  vicious  and  murderous; 
Gasbang,  unscrupulous,  vicious  and  cowardly — he  would  use 
no  weapons  but  the  legal  trickery  of  Roper,  aided  by  the  indul 
gence  of  Judge  Lawlack's  friendship.  In  fact,  Judge  Lawlack 
was  a  host  in  himself,  and  when  that  host  was  led  on  to  battle 
by  the  loquacious  Roper  against  clients  who  had  only  justice 
and  equity  on  their  side,  everybody  knew  that  Roper's  brow 
would  be  crowned  with  honorable  laurels  of  fraud  and  false 
hood  and  robbery,  while  innocent  people  were  cruelly  despoiled 
and  left  homeless.  This,  however,  was  (according  to  Roper) 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE    DON.  313 

the  secret  bargain  between  Judge  Gryllus  Lawlack  and  his  favor 
ite.  This  shameful  debauchery  of  judicial  power  was  the  wages 
of  the  political  factotum;  and  Roper  unblushingly  acknowledged 
it,  and  boasted  of  it — boasted  openly,  in  his  moments  of  exulta 
tion,  when  he  had  imbibed  more  whisky  than  was  consistent 
with  discretion ;  when  he  would  become  loquacious,  and  follow 
ing  the  law  of  his  being,  which  impelled  him  to  swagger  and 
vaunting,  he  longed  to  make  known  to  people  his  "influence 
with  the  Court"  Wishing  at  the  same  time  that  he  was  face 
tious,  to  be  considered  a  wit,  he  would  relate  several  stories 
illustrative  of  his  power  over  the  Judge.  One  of  these  stories 
was  that  of  two  litigants,  who  had  had  a  lawsuit  for  a  long  time; 
at  last,  one  litigant  came  to  the  other  and  said: 

"See  here;  you  had  better  compromise  this  suit.  Don't 
you  see,  on  my  side  I  have  the  law,  the  equity,  the  money  and 
the  talent  ?  " 

"Very  true,"  answered  the  other.  "You  have  the  law,  the 
equity,  the  money  and  the  talent,  but  1  have  the  Judge" 

And  Roper  would  laugh,  thinking  himself  very  funny,  and 
with  a  wink  would  say:  "Didn't  I  tell  you  I  run  this  whole 
town  ?  Of  course  I  do,  because  /  have  the  Court  in  my  pocket. 
Give  us  another  drink. "  And  he  staggered  for  more  whisky. 

Could  the  Judge  ignore  that  his  name  and  office  were  thus 
publicly  dragged  in  the  mire?  Certainly  not,  but  he  would 
merely  remark  that  "  Mr.  Roper  was  joking,"  seeing  no  dis 
graceful  reflection  upon  himself. 

In  the  full  reliance  of  secured  power,  Gasbang  and  Roper 
decided  that  they  would  do  nothing  while  the  survey  of  the 
rancho  was  going  on,  but  would  watch  and  wait  for  develop 
ments,  and  then,  relying  upon  the  Judge's  friendship  to  serve 
their  purpose,  start  some  plot  to  rob  the  Alamares  or  the 
Mechlins. 

"Yes,  we  will  watch  and  pray,  brother  John,"  Roper  said, 
with  a  nasal  twang.  Gasbang  was  a  church  deacon. 

But  Mathews  had  no  Judge  Lawlack  to  bedraggle  justice  for 
his  sake.  So  while  Gasbang  and  Roper  were  jubilant,  he  be- 


314  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

came  gloomy  and  morose.  He  could  not  give  vent  to  his  ill 
humor  by  shooting  stray  cattle  now;  not  that  he  liked  Clarence 
any  better  than  he  liked  the  Don,  but  he  had  promised  Darrell 
not  to  shoot  his  son's  cattle,  and  he  could  not  afford  to  break 
his  promise  and  make  an  enemy  of  so  useful  a  man  as  Darrell. 
So  Mathews  went  back  to  his  old  love  of  whisky,  and  as  his 
whisky  was  of  the  cheapest,  burning  poison  circulated  in  his 
veins.  Miss  Mathews,  his  maiden  sister,  was  seriously  alarmed, 
observing  her  brother's  ways  of  late,  and  would  kindly  remon 
strate  against  his  drinking  such  poor  liquor. 

"For  you  see,  William,  all  liquor  is  bad,  but  bad  liquor  is 
worse,"  the  poor  old  maid  would  say,  in  unconscious  aphorism, 
pleading  with  her  hardened  brother  to  the  best  of  her  ability. 

One  morning,  when  Mathews  had  been  on  a  debauch  of  sev 
eral  days'  duration,  Miss  Mathews  walked  over  to  Mrs.  Darrell, 
and  apologizing  for  not  having  been  to  see  Alice,  because  she 
had  had  so  much  trouble  at  home,  said  she  wished  to  speak  to 
Mr.  Darrell.  On  being  told  by  Jane — who  received  her— that 
her  father  had  gone  to  the  fields  where  grain  was  being  threshed, 
she  left  word  that  she  would  thank  Mr.  Darrell  to  call  on  her 
that  evening.  Agreeable  to  this  request,  Mr.  Darrell  started 
for  Mathews'  house  after  supper. 

Slowly  Darrell  went  over  the  field  and  across  the  little  hollow 
where  Gabriel  had  taken  him  off  his  horse.  Then  he  followed 
the  path  he  had  galloped  with  the  reata  around  his  body,  and 
came  to  the  road  where  he  had  met  the  Don  and  tried  to  strike 
him.  This  was  the  first  time  Dairell  had  been  over  this  ground 
since  that  memorable  day  which  was  now  recalled  to  his  mind 
so  painfully.  He  wondered  how  he  could  have  been  so  blind, 
such  a  fool,  not  to  take  the  right  view  of  Clarence's  actions.  Ah ! 
and  where  was  Clarence  now,  that  beloved  first-born  boy,  of 
whom  he  was  so  proud?  In  this  sad  meditation,  with  head  bowed 
down  most  dejectedly,  Darrell  followed  the  path  until  he  came 
to  a  fence.  He  looked  up  and  saw  this  was  the  south  side  of 
Mr.  Mechlin's  garden.  He  turned  around  the  southeast  cor 
ner  and  followed  along  the  fence,  remembering  that  going  by 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  315 

that  path  he  would  shorten  the  distance  to  Mathews'  house. 
For  a  few  rods  Darrell  walked  in  the  path,  but  not  wishing  to 
be  seen  by  the  Mechlins,  he  left  the  path  and  walked  close  to 
the  fence,  hidden  by  a  row  of  olive  trees.  Presently  he  heard 
a  man's  voice,  talking  and  walking  up  and  down  the  piazza. 
On  the  next  turn  he  saw  it  was  George  Mechlin  carrying  his 
baby  boy  in  his  arms,  kissing  him  at  every  few  words. 

Darrell  was  pleased  to  see  the  young  man  kissing  his  child 
so  lovingly.  It  reminded  him  of  his  young  days  when  he  held 
his  own  first  boy  like  that.  Then  he  felt  a  pang  shoot  through 
his  heart  as  he  thought  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  wicked 
folly,  Clarence  in  another  year  might  have  held  his  own  child, 
too,  in  his  arms,  as  George  was  now  holding  his,  and  that  baby 
would  have  been  his  own  grandchild !  Darrell  trembled  with 
the  strength  of  his  keen  remorse — a  remorse  which  now  con 
stantly  visited  him,  invading  his  spirit  with  relentless  fury,  like 
a  pitiless  foe  that  gave  no  quarter.  He  leaned  against  the 
fence  for  support  and  stood  still,  wishing  to  watch  George 
caressing  his  baby.  Meantime,  George  continued  his  walk 
ing,  his  talking  and  caressing,  which  Darrell  could  hear  was 
occasionally  reciprocated  by  a  sweet  little  cooing  from  the 
baby.  Elvira  came  out  on  the  piazza  now,  and  he  heard  her 
say: 

"Indeed,  George,  that  baby  ought  to  be  in  bed  now. 
See,  it  is  after  seven,  and  he  is  still  awake.  You  keep  him 
awake. 

Mr.  Mechlin  also  came  out  and  took  the  baby,  saying  he, 
too,  must  have  a  kiss.  Then  Mrs.  Mechlin  followed,  and 
Caroline,  and  all  caressed  the  baby,  showing  how  dearly  they 
loved  the  little  thing,  who  took  all  the  petting  in  good  part, 
perfectly  satisfied. 

At  last  Elvira  carried  him  off  to  bed,  and  Darrell  saw 
George  and  Mr.  Mechlin  go  into  the  library  and  sit  by  the 
center-table  to  read.  He  then,  with  down-cast  eyes,  continued 
his  walk  towards  Mathews'  house. 

He   found  Miss    Mathews   alone,   with   eyes   that   plainly 


316  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

showed  sad  traces  of  tears,  she  was  sitting  by  the  lamp  darning 
her  brother's  stockings,  which,  like  those  of  Darrell  himself, 
had  always  holes  at  the  heels,  for  the  tread  of  both  was  alike, 
of  that  positive  character  which  revealed  an  indomnitable 
spirit,  and  it  soon  wore  out  the  heels  of  their  socks. 

After  the  customary  inquiries  for  the  health  of  the  family,  and 
the  usual  remarks  about  the  crops  being  good,  Miss  Mathews 
went  on  to  say  that  she  could  no  longer  bear  the  state  of  her 
mind,  and  thought  it  was  her  duty  to  tell  Mr.  Darrell  her  fears, 
and  prevent  mischief  that  might  occur,  if  her  brother  was  not 
spoken  to  by  somebody. 

"What  mischief  do  you  fear?"  Darrell  asked. 

"Well,  you  see — I  can  scarcely  explain — for,  after  all,  it 
might  be  all  talk  of  William,  when  he  has  drank  that  horrible 
whisky." 

"What  does  he  say?" 

"Well,  you  see,  he  is  awful  sore  about  the  appeal  being 
dismissed,  and  he  blames  it  all  on  Mr.  George  Mechlin,  and 
says  he  ought  to  be  shot  dead,  and  all  other  horrible  talk. 
And  now,  since  the  surveyors  came,  he  is  worse,  saying 
that  the  Don  will  drive  us  off  as  soon  as  the  survey  is  fin 
ished!" 

"He  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  He  is  too  kind-hearted," 
Darrell  said,  and  he  felt  the  hot  blush  come  to  his  face — the 
blush  of  remorseful  shame. 

"That's  what  I  think,  but  William  don't,  and  I  wish  you 
would  talk  encouragingly  to  him,  for  he  is  desperate,  and 
blames  Congress  for  fooling  settlers.  He  says  Congress  ought 
to  be  killed  for  fooling  poor  people  into  taking  lands  that  they 
can't  keep,  and  Mr.  Darrell  I  hope  you  will  talk  to  him.  What 
is  that?" 

She  started  to  her  feet,  and  so  did  Darrell,  for  the  report  of 
a  rifle  rang  loud  and  distinct  in  the  evening  air. 

"  That  is  William's  rifle.     I  hope  he  did  not  fire  it,"  she  said. 

Darrell  went  to  the  door  to  listen  for  another  shot,  but 
none  was  heard,  so  he  came  back  and  resumed  his  seat. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  317 

"Three  times  I  have  taken  that  very  rifle  from  William.  He 
was  going  to  shoot  cattle,  he  said,  and  I  had  to  remind  him  that 
the  cattle  now  belong  to  your  son." 

Steps  were  heard  now,  and  Mathew's  face  peered  through 
the  window.  Miss  Mathews  gave  a  half-suppressed  shriek, 
and  dropped  her  sewing.  Her  brother's  face  looked  so 
ghastly  pale  that  it  frightened  her.  He  pushed  the  door  and 
came  in. 

"  What  makes  the  old  maid  shriek  like  a  fool  ?  "  said  he. 

"Your  death-like  face,"  Darrell  replied. 

"Nonsense!"  he  said,  going  to  a  side-table  to  pour  out 
whisky  from  a  demijohn  he  took  from  under  it. 

"Oh,  William!  for  pity's  sake!  don't  drink  more,"  she 
begged.  "It  will  make  you  crazy,  I  am  sure." 

"Anybody  might  suppose  I  have  drank  a  river,  to  hear  the 
old  hag  talk  like  that,"  he  snarled. 

"You  have  not  said  good  evening  to  Mr.  Darrell." 

"You  don't  give  me  a  chance,  with  your  infernal  chatter. 
Mr.  Darrell  knows  he  is  welcome,"  he  said,  without  looking 
at  him. 

"Where  is  your  rifle,  William?"  she  asked. 

With  an  oath  he  turned  and  glared  at  her,  with  distorted 
features. 

"It  is  none  of  your  business  where  it  is.  Have  I  to  give  you 
an  account  of  everything?" 

"I  thought  you  might  have  loaned  it  to  somebody,  for  we 
heard  it  fired  a  little  while  ago." 

"Is  there  no  rifle  but  mine  in  this  valley?" 

"I  am  sorry  to  say  there  are  plenty,  but  I  know  the  report 
of  yours.  I  never  mistake  it  for  any  other." 

Mathews  became  so  enraged,  hearing  this,  and  so  violent 
and  abusive  in  his  language,  that  Darrell  had  to  interfere  to 
silence  him. 

"  If  you  talk  like  that  to  your  sister,  I  would  advise  her  not 
to  stay  alone  in  this  house  with  you,"  Darrell  said;  "her  life 
might  be  in  danger." 


3Ig  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"I  wish  the  devil  would  take  the  old  hag,"  he  retorted.  "She 
torments  my  life.  I  hate  her." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  Billy?"  Darrell  asked.  "Why 
are  you  so  excited?" 

"It  makes  me  mad  to  hear  her  nonsense,"  he  said,  in  a 
calmer  voice,  but  still  much  agitated,  and  he  again  went  to  pour 
himself  another  drink. 

Miss  Mathews  whispered  hurriedly  to  Darrell:  "Takeaway 
his  rifle." 

"Neighbor  Mathews,"  said  Darrell,  "I  want  to  send  my  rifle 
to  have  it  fixed,  will  you  lend  me  yours  for  a  few  days  ?" 

"Take  it,"  said  he  gruffly,  then  folding  his  arms  on  the  table 
and  leaning  his  head  upon  them,  immediately  sunk  into  a 
heavy  sleep. 

"Take  the  rifle  with  you  now,  Mr.  Darrell,  he  might  change 
his  mind  when  he  awakes.  I'll  bring  it  directly,"  said  Miss 
Mathews,  hurrying  out  of  the  room.  Presently  she  returned, 
and  in  her  dejected  countenance  keen  disappointment  was 
depicted.  Dropping  into  her  seat  she  whispered:  "The  rifle 
is  not  in  the  house.  Somebody  has  taken  it  and  fired  it.  I 
am  sure  that  was  the  shot  we  heard.  I  know  the  ring  of  it." 

"I'll  go  and  see.  Perhaps  I'll  find  out  who  fired  it,"  Dar 
rell  said,  walking  towards  the  front  door,  followed  by  Miss 
Mathews,  who  preferred  to  make  a  few  parting  suggestions 
outside,  not  sure  of  Billy's  soundness  of  sleep. 

As  both  stepped  outside  the  first  object  that  met  their  eyes 
was  Billy's  rifle,  peacefully  reclining  against  the  window. 

Darrell  took  it  up  and  looked  at  Miss  Mathews  perplexed. 
She  was  looking  at  him  aghast. 

The  undefined  fears  that  neither  one  expressed  were  only 
too  well  founded.  The  rifle  had  been  fired,  and  fired  by 
Mathews  with  murderous  intent.  For  several  weeks,  instiga 
ted  by  Roper  and  bad  whisky,  Mathews  had  been  watching  an 
opportunity  to  shoot  George,  because  he  had  the  appeal  dis 
missed.  This  evening  he  at  last  saw  his  chance  when  George 
was  walking  the  porch  caressing  his  baby.  He  could  not  take 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  319 

good  aim  while  he  was  walking,  but  when  Elvira  at  last  took 
the  baby  away  and  George  walked  into  the  library,  then,  as  he 
went  to  put  the  window  down,  Mathews  aimed  at  his  heart 
and  fired.  Fortunately  the  ball  struck  the  window  sash,  de 
flected  and  glanced  down,  striking  the  hip-bone  instead  of  the 
heart. 

Darrell  and  Miss  Mathews  were  still  looking  at  the  rifle,  as 
if  expecting  that  by  a  close  examination  they  might  guess  who 
fired  it,  when  they  were  startled  by  Mathews  uttering  frightful 
curses  and  smashing  the  furniture.  The  noise  brought  two 
hired  men,  who  were  smoking  their  pipes  by  the  kitchen  fire, 
and  they  helped  Darrell  to  grapple  with  the  maniac  and  pin 
ion  his  arms,  tying  him  to  a  chair. 

Miss  Mathews  was  greatly  shocked  to  see  her  brother  crazy, 
but  she  had  been  expecting  it.  She  quietly  consented  to  have 
him  taken  to  an  insane  asylum. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 
A  SNOW  STORM. 

George  Mechlin's  wound  was  not  mortal,  but  it  made  it 
necessary  to  convey  him  to  town  to  have  medical  attendance 
near  at  hand,  and  no  doubt  it  would  be  of  a  long  and  painful 
convalescence,  with  the  danger,  almost  a  certainty,  of  leaving 
him  lame  for  life.  This  danger  was  to  him  far  more  terrible 
than  death,  but  he  concealed  in  the  deepest  recesses  of  his 
heart  the  horror  he  felt  at  being  a  cripple,  for  he  knew  the 
keen  anguish  that  Elvira  suffered  at  the  thought  of  such  a  prob- 
bility.  Her  lovely  black  eyes  would  fill  with  tears,  and  her 
lips  would  tremble  and  turn  white,  when  he  or  any  one  else 
spoke  of  the  possibility  of  his  being  lame.  So  he  had  to  be 
consoler,  and  soothe  her  grief,  and  be  the  one  to  speak  of 
hope  and  courage. 

There  was  no  possibility  of  his  being  able  to  return  to  his 
duties  at  their  bank  in  New  York  at  present,  and  he,  to  cheer 
Elvira's  desponding  heart,  would  say  that  he  could  attend  to  a 
bank  in  San  Diego. 

"Don't  be  despondent,  my  pet,"  he  said  one  day,  when  she 
looked  very  sad;  "things  will  not  be  so  bad,  after  all,  for  in 
the  spring  I  will  be  well  enough  to  attend  to  bank  business 
here,  even  if  I  cannot  stand  the  trip  to  New  York.  With  the 
money  that  Clarence  sent,  and  with  what  I  will  put  in  myself, 
we  can  start  quite  a  solid  bank.  Gabriel  will  have  learned  a 
good  deal  by  that  time,  and  though  I  will  not  walk  much,  I  can 
be  a  very  majestic  President,  and  give  my  directions  from  my 
arm-chair.  All  we  want  is  the  success  of  the  Texas  Pacific— 
and  my  uncle  writes  that  Tom  Scott  is  very  confident,  and 
working  hard." 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  321 

"But  will  he  succeed?"  Elvira  asked. 

"He  has  powerful  enemies,  but  his  cause  is  good.  The 
construction  of  the  Texas  Pacific  ought  to  be  advocated  by 
every  honest  man  in  the  United  States,  for  it  is  the  thing  that 
will  help  the  exhausted  South  to  get  back  its  strength  and 
vitality." 

"Will  it  really  help  the  South  so  much?" 

"Certainly.  Don't  we  see  here  in  our  little  town  of  San 
Diego  how  everything  is  depending  on  the  success  of  this 
road?  Look  at  all  the  business  of  the  town,  all  the  farming 
of  this  county,  all  the  industries  of  Southern  California — 
everything  is  at  a  stand-still,  waiting  for  Congress  to  aid  the 
Texas  Pacific.  Well,  the  poor  South  is  in  pretty  much  the 
same  fix  that  we  are.  I  am  sure  that  there  are  many  homes 
in  the  Southern  States  whose  peace  and  happiness  depend 
upon  the  construction  of  the  Texas  Pacific.  Look  at  our  two 
families.  All  the  future  prosperity  of  the  Alamares  and  Mech 
lins  is  entirely  based  upon  the  success  of  this  road.  If  it  is 
built,  we  will  be  well  off,  we  will  have  comfortable  homes  and 
a  sure  income  to  live  upon.  But  if  the  Texas  Pacific  fails, 
then  we  will  be  financially  wrecked.  That  is,  my  father  will, 
and  Don  Mariano  will  be  sadly  crippled,  for  he  has  invested 
heavily  in  town  property.  For  my  part,  I'll  lose  a  great  deal, 
but  I  have  my  bank  stock  in  New  York  to  fall  back  upon. 
So  my  poor  father  and  yours  will  be  the  worst  sufferers.  Many 
other  poor  fellows  will  suffer  like  them — for  almost  the  entire 
San  Diego  is  in  the  same  boat  with  us.  It  all  depends  on 
Congress." 

"But  why  should  Congress  refuse  to  aid  the  Texas  Pa 
cific,  knowing  how  necessary  the  road  is  to  the  South  ?  It 
would  be  wicked,  George,  downright  injustice,  to  refuse  aid." 

"And  so  it  would,  but  if  rumors  are  true,  the  bribes  of  the 
Central  Pacific  monopolists  have  more  power  with  some  Con 
gressmen  than  the  sense  of  justice  or  the  rights  of  communi 
ties.  The  preamble  and  resolution  which  Luttrell  introduced 
last  session  were  a  'flash  in  the  pan,'  that  was  soon  forgotten, 


322  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

as  it  seems.  In  that  document  it  was  clearly  shown  that  the 
managers  of  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad  Company  were  guilty 
of  undeniable  and  open  frauds.  Enough  was  said  by  Luttrell 
to  prove  those  proud  railroad  magnates  most  culpable,  and 
yet  with  their  record  still  extant,  their  power  in  Congress  seems 
greater  every  year.  Still,  uncle  writes  that  Tom  Scott  is  to 
make  a  big  fight  this  winter,  and  that  his  chances  are  good.  I 
am  bound  to  hope  that  he'll  win." 

"But  why  has  he  to  fight?  What  right  have  those  men  of 
the  Central  Pacific  to  oppose  his  getting  Congressional  aid? 
Does  the  money  of  the  American  people  belong  to  those 
men,  that  they  should  have  so  much  to  say  about  how  it 
should  be  used?  Is  it  not  very  audacious,  outrageous,  to 
come  forward  and  oppose  aid  being  given,  only  because  they 
don't  want  to  have  competition  ?  Isn't  that  their  reason?" 

"  That's  all.  They  have  not  an  earthly  right  to  oppose  the 
Texas  Pacific,  and  all  their  motive  is  that  they  don't  want  com 
petition  to  their  Central  Pacific  Railroad.  They  have  already 
made  millions  out  of  this  road,  but  they  want  no  one  else  to 
make  a  single  dollar.  They  want  to  grab  every  cent  that 
might  be  made  out  of  the  traffic  between  the  Atlantic  and 
Pacific  Oceans,  and  they  don't  care  how  many  people  are 
ruined  or  how  many  homes  are  made-desolate  in  the  South  or 
in  California." 

"Oh,  George,  but  this  is  awful!  If  those  men  are  so  very 
rapacious  and  cruel,  what  hope  have  we?  They  will  certainly 
sacrifice  San  Diego  if  their  influence  in  Congress  is  so  great ! 
Poor  San  Diego !  my  poor,  little,  native  town,  to  be  sacrificed 
to  the  heartless  greed  of  four  or  five  men." 

"And  what  claim  have  these  men  upon  the  American 
people?  Think  of  that!  Have  they  or  their  fathers  ever  ren 
dered  any  services  to  the  nation  ?  None  whatever.  All  they 
rely  upon  is  their  boldness  in  openly  asking  that  others  be  sac 
rificed,  and  backing  their  modest  request  with  money  earned 
out  of  the  road  they  built  with  Government  funds  and  Gov 
ernment  credit.  But  they  have  tasted  the  sweets  of  ill-gotten 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  323 

gain,  and  now  their  rapacity  keeps  increasing,  and  in  a  few 
years — if  they  kill  the  Texas  Pacific — they  will  want  to  absorb 
every  possible  dollar  that  might  be  made  on  this  coast.  The 
only  thing  that  will  put  a  check  upon  their  voracity  is  the 
Texas  Pacific.  If  this  is  killed,  then  heaven  knows  what  a 
Herculean  work  the  people  of  this  coast  will  have  to  destroy 
this  hydra-headed  monster,  or  in  some  way  put  a  bit  in  each 
of  its  many  voracious  mouths." 

"I  am  awfully  discouraged,  George.  I  am  so  sorry  that  papa 
put  all  his  money  into  town  property." 

"Let  us  yet  hope  Tom  Scott  might  succeed." 

And  thus  this  young  couple  went  on  discussing  San  Diego's 
chances  of  life  or  death,  and  their  own  hopes  in  the  future. 
They  were  not  the  only  couple  who  in  those  days  pondered 
over  the  problem  of  the  "/<?  be  or  not  to  be"  of  the  Texas  Pa 
cific.  It  is  not  an  exaggeration  to  say  that  for  nearly  ten  long 
years  the  people  of  San  Diego  lived  in  the  hope  of  that  much- 
needed  and  well-deserved  Congressional  aid  to  the  Texas  Pa 
cific,  which  never  came!  That  aid  which  was  to  bring  peace 
and  comfort  to  so  many  homes,  which  at  last  were  made  for 
ever  desolate ! 

Yes,  aid  was  refused.  The  monopoly  triumphed,  bringing 
poverty  and  distress  where  peace  might  have  been ! 

Yet  in  those  days — the  winter  of '74^75 — everybody's  hopes 
were  bright.  No  clouds  in  San  Diego's  horizon  meant  misfor 
tune.  Not  yet! 

And  of  all  of  San  Diego's  sanguine  inhabitants,  none  sur 
passed  in  hopefulness  the  three  friends  who  had  invested  so 
heavily  in  real  estate,  viz.:  Mr.  Mechlin,  Senor  Alamar  and 
Mr.  Holman.  They  exhorted  all  to  keep  up  courage,  and 

trust  in  Tom  Scott. 

**•****#** 

Many  of  the  cattle  sent  to  Clarence's  mines  had  returned  to 
the  rancho  from  the  mountains,  and  now  it  was  necessary  to 
collect  them  again  and  send  them  back. 

Don  Mariano  himself,  accompanied  by  Victoriano  and  two 


324  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

of  his  brothers,  would  start  for  the  Colorado  River,  intending 
to  see  that  the  cattle  got  to  the  mines  safely. 

The  evening  before  leaving  Victoriano  enjoyed  the  great 
happiness  of  seeing  Alice  by  herself  and  talking  to  her  of  his 
love.  For  three  long  months  her  illness  had  kept  her  a  close 
prisoner  in  her  bedroom,  and  she  had  not  seen  Tano. 

Now  they  enjoyed  a  two  hours'  tete-a-tete,  which  was  very 
sweet  to  them,  and  which  pleasure  they  had  not  had  since 
Clarence  left. 

Mercedes'  convalesence  was  very  slow.  Her  despondency 
at  Clarence's  absence  retarded  her  recovery.  The  wounding 
of  George  had  also  impressed  her  painfully,  for  she  was  de 
votedly  attached  to  him;  and  now  she  was  worrying  about  her 
father  having  to  go  away. 

Don  Mariano  told  her  that  as  soon  as  the  cattle  were  on 
the  other  side  of  the  mountains  he  would  not  feel  any  appre 
hension  of  their  running  away ;  that  once  in  the  desert  they 
would  go  straight  to  the  river,  but  that  while  in  the  mountains 
there  was  danger  of  their  "stampeding"  and  being  lost.  She 
heard  all  this,  but  still  she  dreaded  her  papa's  going  out  of  her 
sight.  She  could  not  forget  that  had  he  been  at  home  when 
Clarence  came  that  last  evening  all  might  have  been  right. 
She  had  no  faith  in  human  calculations  any  more.  She  was 
sick,  and  wanted  her  papa  near  her. 

"I  think  the  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  send  Mercita  to 
town,  to  remain  with  us  while  you  are  away,"  George  had  said 
to  Don  Mariano,  hearing  how  badly  she  felt  at  his  going. 

"  Yes,  you  are  right.  The  surroundings  at  the  rancho  bring 
to  her  painful  thoughts  which  will  be  gloomier  when  Tano  and 
myself  are  away.  She  will  have  the  two  babies,  of  whom  she 
is  so  fond,  to  amuse  her  here,"  said  Don  Mariano. 

"Besides  all  of  us,  the  Holman  girls  will  be  good  company 
for  her,"  added  George. 

Mercedes,  therefore,  was  told  by  her  papa  that  she  was  to 
remain  with  Elvira  and  Lizzie  in  town  during  his  absence. 

"  Papa,  darling,  I  shall  not  cease  to  be  anxious  about  you 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  325 

and  Tano  until  I  see  your  dear  faces  again.  I  am  a  thoroughly 
superstitious  girl  now.  But  still,  I  do  agree  with  you  and  poor, 
dear  George,  that  the  babies  will  be  a  sweet  source  of  consola 
tion  to  me.  Yes,  take  me  to  them.  I'll  play  chess  or  cards 
with  George,  and  we'll  amuse  each  other.  He  will  read  to 
me;  he  is  a  splendid  reader;  I  love  to  hear  him." 

Mercedes,  therefore,  was  conveyed  to  town  by  her  loving 
father,  who  went  away  with  a  much  lighter  heart,  thinking  that 
she  would  be  less  desponding. 

The  mayordomOy  with  about  twenty  vaqueros>  were  nearly  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountains  with  twenty-five  hundred  head  of 
cattle,  when  Don  Mariano  and  Victoriano  overtook  them,  and 
as  the  cattle  had  been  resting  there  for  two  days,  their  journey 
to  the  Colorado  River  would  be  resumed  at  daybreak. 

The  weather  had  been  intensely  cold  for  the  last  two  days, 
so  that  the  benumbed  animals  could  scarcely  walk  in  the  early 
morning,  but  now  the  air  felt  warmer. 

"  I  fear  it  is  going  to  rain.  We  must  try  to  reach  the  desert 
and  leave  the  storm  behind  us,"  said  Don  Mariano  to  his 
may  or  do  mo. 

A  good  day's  journey  was  made  that  day,  and  night  overtook 
them  as  they  descended  into  a  small  valley,  which  seemed  to 
invite  them  to  rest  within  its  pretty  circumference  of  well- 
wooded  mountain  slopes,  from  which  merry  little  brooks  ran 
singing  and  went  to  hide  their  music  among  the  tall  grasses 
that  grew  in  rank  solitude. 

The  bellowing  of  cattle  and  shouts  of  the  vaqueros  soon 
awoke  the  mountain  echoes,  and  the  silent  little  valley  was 
noisy  and  crowded  with  busy  life.  Camp-fires  were  quickly 
lighted,  from  which  arose  blue  columns  of  smoke,  making  the 
lonely  spot  seem  well  populated. 

''With  a  good  supper  and  good  night's  rest,  we  will  make  a 
long  march  to-morrow,"  said  the  mayordomo  to  Don  Mariano. 
'  There  is  plenty  of  feed  here  for  our  cattle." 

"But  the  weather  looks  so  threatening.  I  wish  we  were 
out  of  this,"  said  Don  Mariano. 


326  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"And  I,  too.     We  are  going  to  get  a  wetting,"  added  Tano. 

About  midnight  Don  Mariano  awoke,  startled;  he  had  heard 
nothing,  and  yet  he  awoke  with  a  sense  of  having  been  sum 
moned  to  arise.  He  sat  up  and  looked  around,  but  saw  noth 
ing.  The  darkness  of  the  sky  had  changed  from  inky  black 
to  a  leaden  hue,  and  the  clouds  hung  down  among  the  tall 
trees  like  curtains  of  ashy  gray,  draping  them  entirely  out  of 
view.  The  fires  were  out,  and  yet  he  did  not  feel  cold.  He 
thought  it  strange  that  all  the  fires  should  have  burned  out, 
when  they  had  put  on  such  heavy  logs  before  going  to  sleep. 
He  struck  a  light  to  look  at  his  watch,  for  he  had  no  idea  what 
the  hour  might  be.  By  the  light  he  saw  that  his  blankets 
seemed  covered  with  flour.  He  brushed  off  the  white  dust, 
and  found  that  snowflakes  had  invaded  even  their  retreat  under 
the  shelter  of  oak  trees. 

"  There  must  have  been  some  wind  to  blow  this  snow  under 
the  thick  foliage  of  these  oaks,"  said  he,  hurriedly  putting  his 
coat  and  shoes  on,  these  being  the  only  articles  of  his  dress  he 
had  removed,  "and  I  did  not  hear  it.  How  stealthily  this 
enemy  came  upon  us.  I  fear  it  will  be  a  winding-sheet  for  my 
poor  cattle."  He  now  proceeded  to  awake  everybody,  and  a 
hard  task  it  was,  for  the  treacherous  drowsiness  spread  over 
them  with  that  snow-white  coverlet  was  hard  to  shake  off.  But 
he  persisted,  and  when  he  made  believe  he  was  losing  his 
patience,  then  all  arose,  slowly,  reluctantly,  but  they  were  on 
their  feet. 

"Come  on,  boys,  let  us  build  fires,  fires!  Fires  under  every 
tree,  if  we  have  to  put  up  barricades  to  keep  off  snow-drifts. 
Come  on;  we  must  drink  coffee  all  night  to  keep  us  awake." 

In  a  short  time  several  fires  were  started  under  oak  trees 
which  had  widely-spreading  branches  or  under  pines  which 
clustered  together. 

Don  Mariano  had  a  consultation  with  his  mayordomo,  and 
both  agreed  that  it  would  be  best  to  drive  the  cattle  back  for 
a  few  miles  and  wait  until  the  snow  had  melted  sufficiently  for 
them  to  see  the  trails,  else  all  might  plunge  unawares  into  hid 
den  pitfalls  and  gulches  covered  over  by  snow-drifts. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  327 

'•  Yes,  this  is  our  only  course,"  said  Don  Mariano,  "  and  now 
we  must  start  them  up.  Sleep  under  snow  cannot  be  any  bet 
ter  for  cattle  than  it  is  for  men.  Let  us  have  some  coffee,  and 
then  we  must  whip  up  and  rouse  the  cattle;  they  seem  dead 
already;  they  are  too  quiet." 

He  was  going  back  to  the  tree  where  he  had  slept,  when  he 
was  met  by  his  brother  Augustin,  who  came  to  say  that  Victo- 
riano  wished  to  see  him. 

"What?  Still  in  bed?"  said  he,  seeing  Victori'ano  lying 
down.  "This  won't  do.  Up  with  you,  boy." 

"  Come  here  to  me,  father,"  said  Victoriano^s  voice,  very 
sadly.  His  father  was  quickly  by  his  side. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  my  boy  ?  "  asked  he. 

"  Father,  I  cannot  stand  up.  From  my  knees  down  I  have 
lost  all  feeling,  and  have  no  control  of  my  limbs  at  all." 

"  Have  you  rubbed  them  to  start  circulation  ?  They  are  be 
numbed  with  the  cold,  I  suppose." 

"  I  have  been  rubbing  them,  but  without  any  effect,  it  seems. 
I  don't  feel  pain  though,  nor  cold  either." 

This  was  the  saddest  perplexity  yet.  There  was  nothing  to 
be  done  but  to  wait  for  daylight  to  take  Victoriano  home.  In 
the  meantime,  a  fire  was  made  near  his  bed.  His  limbs  were 
wrapped  in  warm  blankets;  he  drank  a  large  cup  of  warm  coffee 
and  lay  down  to  wait  for  the  dawn  of  day  to  appear. 

As  soon  as  all  the  herders  had  drank  plenty  of  warm  coffee, 
all  mounted  their  horses,  and  the  work  of  rousing  the  cattle  began. 

The  shouts  of  the  vaqueros,  bellowing  of  cattle  and  barking  of 
dogs  resounded  throughout  the  valley,  the  echo  repeating  them 
from  hill  to  hill  and  mountain  side.  In  a  short  time  everything 
living  was  in  motion,  and  the  peaceful  little  valley  seemed  the 
battle-ground  where  a  fiercely  contested,  hand-to-hand  fight  was 
raging.  The  great  number  of  fires  burning  under  the  shelter  of 
trees,  seen  through  the  falling  snow  as  if  behind  a  thick, 
mysterious  veil,  gave  to  the  scene  a  weird  appearance  of  unreal 
ity  which  the  shouts  of  men,  bellowing  of  cattle  and  barking  of 
dogs  did  not  dispel.  It  all  seemed  like  a  phantom  battle  of 


328  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

ghostly  warriors  or  enchanted  knights  evoked  in  a  magic  valley, 
all  of  which  must  disappear  with  the  first  rays  of  day. 

Don  Mariano  and  his  two  brothers  also  mounted  their  horses, 
but  remained  near  Victoriano's  bed  to  keep  him  from  being 
trampled  by  cattle  that  might  rush  in  that  direction. 

About  four  o'clock  the  vaqueros  had  a  recess.  They  had  put 
the  cattle  in  motion,  and  could  conscientiously  think  of  cooking 
breakfast.  By  the  time  that  breakfast  was  over,  daylight  began 
to  peep  here  and  there  through  the  thick  curtains  of  falling  snow. 
Giving  to  the  mayordomo  the  last  instructions  regarding  the  man 
agement  of  the  cattle,  Don  Mariano  got  Victoriano  ready  to  start 
on  their  forlorn  ride  homeward.  It  was  no  easy  task  to  put  him 
in  the  saddle,  -but  once  there,  he  said  he  was  all  right. 

"  I  am  a  miserable  chicken  from  my  knees  down,  but  a  per 
fect  gentleman  from  my  knees  up.  Don't  be  sad,  father;  I'll  be 
all  right  again  soon,"  said  he,  cheerfully. 

The  snow  had  not  ceased  falling  for  one  moment,  and  if  the 
mayordomo  had  not  been  so  good  a  guide  they  might  not  have 
found  their  way  out,  for  every  trail  was  completely  obliterated, 
and  no  landmarks  could  be  seen.  After  a  while,  Don  Mariano 
himself,  aided  by  a  pocket  compass,  got  the  bearings  correctly. 
The  entire  band  of  cattle  were  driven  back,  so  that  all  began 
their  retreating  march  together,  preceded  by  Victoriano,  with  his 
limbs  wrapped  up  in  pieces  of  blanket,  an  expedient  which  he 
found  very  ridiculous  and  laughable,  suggesting  many  witticisms 
to  him. 

About  ten  o'clock  they  came  to  a  grove  of  oak  trees  which 
covered  a  broad  space  of  ground  and  afforded  good  shelter  for 
man  and  animals.  Don  Mariano  told  his  mayordomo  that  he 
thought  this  would  be  a  good  place  for  him  to  stay  with  the  stock 
until  the  storm  had  passed,  for  although  the  snow  might  fall  on 
the  uncovered  ground,  there  would  be  shelter  for  all  under  the 
trees. 

After  resting  for  an  hour  and  eating  a  good  luncheon,  Don 
Mariano,  aided  by  his  brothers,  again  put  Victoriano  on  horse 
back  and  started  homeward,  all  the  country  being  still  enveloped 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  329 

in  snow.  About  nightfall  the  snow  was  succeeded  by  rain,  and 
this  was  much  worse,  for  it  came  accompanied  by  a  violent  wind 
which  seemed  as  if  it  would  blow  them  away  with  their  horses. 
Having  left  the  mayordomo  and  all  but  one  vaquero  with  the 
cattle,  Don  Mariano  had  with  him  only  this  one  mozo  to  wait  on 
them,  and  his  two  brothers  to  assist  him  in  the  care  of  Tano. 
The  night  was  passed  again  under  the  friendly  shelter  of  trees, 
but  in  the  morning  it  was  found  necessary  to  ride  out  into  the 
storm,  for  now  Victoriano's  limbs  ached  frightfully  at  times,  and 
it  was  imperative  to  reach  home.  This  was  not  done  until  the 
following  day,  when  Victoriano's  malady  had  assumed  a  very 
painful  character,  and  when  Don  Mariano  himself  had  taken  a 
severe  cold  in  his  lungs.  A  doctor  was  immediately  sent  for, 
and  now  Dona  Josefa  had  two  invalids  more  to  nurse. 

For  six  weeks  Don  Mariano  was  confined  to  his  bed  with  a 
severe  attack  of  pneumonia,  followed  by  a  lung  fever,  which 
clung  to  him  for  many  days.  In  the  latter  part  of  January,  how 
ever,  he  was  convalescing.  Not  so  Victoriano;  his  strange  mal 
ady  kept  him  yet  a  close  prisoner.  When  his  father  was  out 
already,  driving  and  riding  about  the  rancho,  poor  Tano  had  to 
be  content  with  sitting  by  the  window  in  an  arm-chair,  and  look 
ing  at  that  other  window  which  he  knew  was  in  Alice's  room. 
Everett  came  daily  to  sit  with  him,  to  read  to  him,  or  play  chess 
or  cards,  and  he  helped  the  invalid  to  take  a  few  steps,  and  lit 
tle  by  little,  Tano  began  to  walk. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 
A  FALSE  FRIEND  SENT  TO  DECEIVE  THE  SOUTHERNERS. 

"Great  men  are  the  Fire  Pillars  in  this  dark  pilgrimage  of 
mankind;  they  stand  as  heavenly  signs,  ever  living  witnesses  of 
what  has  been,  prophetic  tokens  of  what  may  still  be — the  re 
vealed  embodied  Possibilities  of  human  nature,"  says  Carlyle. 

If  conspicuousness  or  notoriety  could  mean  greatness,  we  have 
our  great  men  in  California.  But  are  they  the  Fire  Pillars  in 
our  dark  pilgrimage?  Verily,  no.  They  are  upas  trees,  blight 
ing  life,  spreading  desolation,  ruin,  death  upon  all  they  over 
shadow.  Only  the  cruelist  irony  could  designate  them  as  heav 
enly  signs,  for  surely  they  march  before  us  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion  from  that  in  which  heavenly  Fire  Pillars  would  be  expected 
to  stand. 

And  who  are  the  most  conspicuous  in  our  State?  The  mon- 
ted  men,  of  course — the  monopolists.  They  are  our  Fire  Pil 
lars  !  Unfortunate  California !  if  thou  art  to  follow  such  guides, 
thy  fate  shall  be  to  grovel  for  money  to  the  end  of  time,  with 
not  one  thought  beyond,  or  above,  money-making,  and  not  one 
aspiration  higher  than  to  accumulate  millions  greedily  for  rapaci 
ty's  sake — without  once  remembering  the  misery  that  such  rapacity 
has  brought  upon  so  many  innocent  people — the  blight  it  has 
spread  over  so  many  lives.  Thy  ambition  shall  be  to  control 
the  judiciary  and  utterly  debauch  the  legislative  branch  of  our 
Government;  to  contaminate  the  public  press  and  private  indi 
vidual  until  thy  children  shall  have  lost  all  belief  in  honor,  and 
justice,  and  good  faith,  and  morality.  Until  honesty  shall  be  made 
ridiculous  and  successful  corruption  shall  be  held  up  for  admi 
ration  and  praise. 

And  are  not  our  "  Fire  Pillars  "  dragging  us  already  in  that 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  331 

direction?  blinding  us  instead  of  guiding  and  enlightening? 
Yes,  alluring,  tempting,  making  rapacity  and  ill-gotten  wealth  ap 
pear  justifiable,  seen  through  the  seductive  glamour  of  Success  ! 

The  letter  Mr.  James  Mechlin  received  one  morning  about 
the  latter  part  of  November,  1875,  would  seem  so  to  indicate. 
He  and  Mr.  Holman  met  often  at  the  postoffice  each  winter 
since  1872,  always  hoping  to  get  railroad  news  from  Washing 
ton.  These  two  gentlemen  religiously  went  to  the  postoffice 
every  day  again  this  winter — particularly  since  the  Mechlins 
had  taken  their  temporary  residence  in  town — and  religiously 
they  expected  that  good  news  would  come  at  any  time  while 
Congress  was  in  session — news  that  a  bill  to  aid  in  the  construc 
tion  of  the  Texas  Pacific  Railroad  had  been  passed.  But  days 
and  days  went  by  and  no  news  came.  This  morning,  however, 
Mr.  Mechlin  received  two  letters  from  his  brother,  the  first  he 
had  got  since  he  brought  the  wounded  George  to  town. 

One  of  these  letters  said  that  early  in  that  month  (November) 
Mr.  C.  C.  had  taken  east  from  California  in  his  special  car  ex- 
Senator  Guller,  for  the  purpose  of  being  sent  South  to  persuade 
the  Southern  people  into  believing  that  the  Texas  Pacific  Rail 
road  would  be  injurious  to  the  South;  that  it  was  being  built 
for  the  benefit  of  Northern  interests,  but  that  the  Southern  Pa 
cific^  of  Mr.  Huntington  and  associates,  was  truly  the  road  for 
the  South.  Mr.  Huntington  instructed  Senator  Guller  in  all  the 
fictions  he  was  to  spread  in  the  South,  and  with  that  burden  on 
his  soul  (if  the  old  man  has  one),  the  hoary  headed  ex-Senator 
started  from  Washington  about  the  i2th  of  November,  1875,  on 
this  errand  to  deceive,  to  betray.  To  betray  cruelly,  hiding  under 
the  cloak  of  friendship  and  good  will,  the  worst,  blackest,  most 
perfidious  intent.  "He  is  going  about  the  South  making  public 
speeches,"  Mr.  Mechlin  said,  "  and  using  his  influence  to  mis 
lead  Southern  newspapers  and  Southern  influential  men;  trying 
to  convince  all  that  the  Texas  Pacific  will  do  the  South  great 
harm.  The  Southern  people  and  Southern  Press  have  fallen 
into  the  trap.  They  never  doubted,  never  could  doubt,  the 
veracity  of  ex-Senator  Guller,  who  had  espoused  their  cause 


332  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

during  the  war  of  the  rebellion,  and  had  always  held  Southern 
sentiments.  Who  could  believe  that  now,  for  money,  he  would 
go  to  deceive  trusting  friends?  That,  for  money,  he  would 
cruelly  mislead  Southerners  to  their  ruin  ?  Who  would  believe 
that  this  old  man,  calling  himself  a  friend,  was  the  veriest,  worst, 
most  malignant  Mephistopheles,  holding  in  the  heart  so  wicked  a 
purpose,  such  an  infamous  design?" 

In  the  second  letter  Mr.  Lawrence  Mechlin  spoke  of  ex-Sena 
tor  Guller  being  still  at  work  in  the  South,  and  that  his  patron, 
Mr.  Huntington,  seemed  to  think  that  the  old  man  was  not  tell 
ing  as  many  fictions  as  he  (Huntington)  wished.  But  that  what 
more  false  statements  he  desired,  it  did  not  appear,  for  in  reality 
Dr.  Guller  had  prevaricated  and  misrepresented  all  that  he  could 
within  the  limits  of  possible  credibility. 

"And  now,"  Mr.  Mechlin's  letter  added,  "old  man  Guller 
will  soon  return  from  his  Southern  trip.  Let  us  hope  that  the 
old  man  will  be  well  paid  for  his  unsavory  work.  I  cannot  be 
lieve  that  in  making  his  public  speeches  he  does  not  occasion 
ally  feel  a  pang  of  regret,  of  remorse,  when  seeing  the  faces  of 
those  unfortunate,  betrayed  Southerners  upturned  to  him,  listen 
ing  in  the  sincerity  of  their  hearts  to  the  atrocious  concoctions 
which  he  is  pouring  upon  their  unsuspecting  heads." 

Mr.  James  Mechlin  read  to  Mr.  Holman  this  portion  of  his 
brother's  letter,  and  both  looked  at  each  other  in  dismay. 

"Come  with  me,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin.  "Let  us  go  and  talk 
with  George  about  this."  WThen  they  had  walked  in  silence  a 
few  minutes,  Mr.  Mechlin  turned  suddenly  around  and  said: 

"I  have  an  idea.  Let  us  (you,  Don  Mariano,  and  myself) 
go  to  see  Governor  Stanford  and  find  out  from  him  directly 
whether  they  really  mean  to  kill  the  Texas  Pacific,  or  whether 
those  tricks  of  Huntington  are  intended  only  as  a  ruse  to  bring 
Tom  Scott  to  terms." 

"But  would  Stanford  tell  us?" 

"  Whether  he  does  or  not,  by  talking  with  him  we  will  find 
out  the  truth." 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  333 

"  I  don't  think  the  sending  of  Guller  to  the  South  can  be  a 
ruse  only;  it  must  have  cost  them  money." 

"True.  You  are  right,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin,  sadly,  resuming 
his  walk.  "  And  it  proves  conclusively  that  these  men  of  the 
Central  Pacific  Railroad  will  stop  at  nothing  to  obtain  ther  end; 
and  yet,  I  have  always  thought  so  well  of  Governor  Stanford 
that  I  am  unwilling  to  believe  he  is  a  party  to  any  trickery  of 
Huntington's." 

On  arriving  home,  Mr.  Mechlin,  followed  by  Mr.  Holman, 
went  directly  into  George's  room  to  lay  before  him  his  idea  ot 
interviewing  Governor  Stanford.  After  listening  attentively, 
George  said: 

"  I  have  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  the  railroad  men  of  the 
Central  Pacific  wish  to  establish  an  iron-bound  monopoly  on 
the  Pacific  slope,  to  grasp  all  the  carrying  business  of  the  entire 
coast,  and  to  effect  that,  they  will  do  anything  to  kill  the  Texas 
Pacific,  or  any  other  road  that  might  compete  with  them.  Still, 
as  you  are  going  to  San  Francisco  to  escort  Lizzie,  you  can 
then,  for  your  own  satisfaction,  have  a  talk  with  Governor  Stan 
ford,  and  Mr.  Holman  and  Don  Mariano  can  join  you." 

"  Yes,  after  I  see  him,  I  shall  know  the  truth  whether  he  tells 
it  to  me  or  I  see  it  myself,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin. 

"Well, I  shall  join  you  at  any  time.  Let  us  go  to  see  Don 
Mariano  to-morrow  and  find  out  when  he  thinks  he  will  be  well 
enough  to  travel,"  said  Mr.  Holman. 

"Very  well;  I  shall  call  for  you  about  nine  A.M.,"  said  Mr. 
Mechlin.  Mr.  Holman  then  arose,  and,  saying  he  wished  to 
speak  with  the  ladies  and  try  to  forget  railroads,  went  into  the 
parlor.  Mr.  Mechlin  followed  him,  saying  to  George  as  he  was 
leaving  the  room : 

"Here  is  a  lot  of  letters  and  papers  that  came  this  morning 
which  I  was  almost  forgetting  to  give  to  you." 

Among  the  various  letters  of  less  interest  to  George,  there 
was  one  from  his  uncle,  one  from  Bob  Gunther  and  (would  he 
believe  his  eyes  !)  one  from  Clarence !  The  sight  of  that  writing 
made  George  start,  and  he  immediately  thought  of  the  effect  it 


334  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

would  have  on  Mercedes.  He  hastily  tore  open  the  envelope 
and  found  four  letters  besides  the  one  for  himself.  One  was 
for  Don  Mariano,  one  for  Gabriel,  one  for  Tano,  and  one  for 
Mercedes.  "The  noble  fellow  forgets  no  one,"  said  George, 
beginning  to  read  his  letter,  and  thinking  it  was  best  not  to  give 
to  Mercedes  hers  until  all  the  visitors  had  left,  was  soon  ab 
sorbed  in  what  Clarence  said.  Knowing  that  all  would  repeat 
the  contents  of  his  letters  to  one  another,  Clarence  related  to 
each  different  incidents  of  his  travels,  leaving  for  Mercedes  alone 
the  recital  of  his  heart's  longings,  and  sufferings,  and  fears,  and 
hopes.  To  George  he  related  his  travels  in  the  interior  of 
Mexico,  speaking  with  great  enthusiasm  of  the  transcendent 
beauty,  the  sublimity  of  the  scenery  in  that  marvelous  country. 
He  had  passed  several  weeks  in  the  Sierra  Madre,  had  ascended 
to  the  summits  of  Popocatepetl  and  Orizaba,  viewing  from  the 
snow-clad  apex  of  this  last  named  mountain,  at  an  elevation  of 
more  than  three  miles  above  the  sea  level,  a  vast  panorama  of 
the  entire  Mexico,  bordered  on  each  side  by  the  Pacific  and 
Atlantic  Oceans.  Clarence  also  spoke  in  highest  terms  of 
praise  of  the  delta  of  the  Sumasinta  River,  and  beautiful  scenery 
of  the  Rio  Verde  and  Rio  Lerma,  and  Chapala  Lake,  so  large 
and  picturesque  that  it  looks  like  an  ocean  set  apart  by  the  jeal 
ous  gods  so  that  men  may  not  defile  its  beauty  and  break  its 
silence  with  the  hurry  scurry  of  commercial  traffic.  Clarence 
dwelt,  also,  upon  his  visit  to  Yucatan,  where  he  went  more  es 
pecially  to  see  the  ruins  of  Urmal.  Those  ruins  which  are  the 
irrefragable  witnesses  of  a  past  civilization,  lost  so  entirely  that 
archaeology  cannot  say  one  word  about  its  birth  or  death.  Clar 
ence  found  those  ruins  intensely  interesting,  and  would  have 
spent  much  longer  time  than  the  month  he  passed  there,  exam 
ining,  studying  and  admiring  them,  had  his  traveling  compan 
ions  been  willing  to  remain  longer,  but  they  were  anxious  to 
visit  the  City  of  Mexico,  and  so  he  was  obliged  to  leave  those 
majestic  ruins  whose  silence  spoke  to  him  so  eloquently.  They 
seemed  to  him  symbolical  of  his  ruined  hopes,  his  great  love, 
in  fact,  himself.  Was  be  not  like  those  crumbling  edifices — a 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  335 

sad  ruin  of  lofty  aspirations?  Poor  Clarence,  his  sad  heart  was 
only  made  sadder  when,  upon  his  arrival  at  the  City  of  Mexico, 
he  found  no  letters  there.  He  inquired  at  the  American  Lega 
tion  whether  any  letters  had  come  for  him,  and  was  told  by  the 
Secretary  that  no  letters,  but  one  package,  only  one,  had  been 
received,  which  had  been  kept  for  six  months,  at  the  end  of 
which  time  Mr.  Hubert  Haverly  had  written  saying  that  if  Mr. 
Darrell  did  not  call  for  the  package  soon,  to  return  it  to  him 
(Haverly)  at  San  Francisco.  This  had  been  done  about 
two  weeks  previously.  On  hearing  this,  Clarence  sat  down, 
wrote  letters  to  all  his  friends,  and  then  started  for  South  Amer 
ica,  intending  to  cross  that  continent  and  embark  at  Brazil  for 
Europe.  His  letter  to  Mercedes  he  ended  with  these  words. 

"I  do  not  blame  you  for  renouncing  me,  for  it  must  be  re 
pugnant  to  you  to  unite  yourself  with  one  who  has  such  rough 
blood  in  his  veins.  But,  Oh !  Mercedes,  can  you  not  pity  me 
enough  to  say  one  kind  word?  What  have  I  done  to  deserve  be 
ing  the  miserable  outcast  that  I  am?" 

Mercedes  was  in  despair.  Where  could  all  their  letters  be  ? 
Why  did  he  not  get  them?  He  wrote  to  his  mother,  to  Everett 
and  Alice,  and  to  them  he  made  the  same  complaint,  and  yet, 
all  had  written  to  him  repeatedly. 

Mr.  Mechlin,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Holman,  arrived  at  the 
rancho  about  luncheon  hour.  Their  drive  had  given  them  a 
good  appetite  and  they  enjoyed  their  repast.  After  it,  they  all 
adjourned  to  the  parlor  to  discuss,  by  the  fire,  their  intended 
visit  to  San  Francisco.  Don  Mariano  would  have  preferred  to 
sit  out  doors  on  one  of  the  verandas,  but  Dona  Josefa  reminded 
him  that  a  whole  year  had  passed  since  he  was  overtaken  by 
that  disastrous  snow-storm,  and  he  had  not  yet  regained  his 
usual  health;  neither  had  Victoriano.  The  injury  to  his  health 
seemed  even  greater  and  more  difficult  to  remedy,  for  every  two 
or  three  months  he  had  attacks  more  or  less  serious  of  the  same 
lameness  which  deprived  him  of  the  use  of  his  limbs. 

As  for  the  cattle,  the  poor,  dumb  brutes  who  had  never  seen 
snow,  they  became  so  frightened  at  the  sight  of  that  white  pall, 


336  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

enveloping  everything,  that  they  were  absolutely  unmanageable 
after  Don  Mariano  had  gone  in  advance  with  Victoriano,  and 
the  mayordomo  thought  they  would  wait  until  the  storm  had 
passed.  Next  day  the  mayordomo  went  about  in  hopes  of  find 
ing  such  stray  animals  as  might  have  ran  less  wildly,  but  none 
were  to  be  seen,  excepting  those  which  lay  stiff  in  death  under 
the  snow. 

The  loss  of  his  cattle  made  it  more  imperative  that  Don  Mari 
ano  should  look  closely  into  land  matters,  into  the  prospects  of 
a  railroad  for  San  Diego.  He  therefore  listened  attentively  to 
what  his  friends  said  about  Mr.  Lawrence  Mechlin  having  writ 
ten,  and  their  proposed  visit  of  inquiry  to  ex-Governor  Stanford 
as  to  what  might  be  the  fate  of  San  Diego's  railroad. 

"It  seems  to  me  incredible  that  Doctor  Culler  should  have 
lent  himself  for  such  service,  no  matter  how  well  paid,"  said  Don 
Mariano.  "  If  he  had  been  sent  to  deceive  the  North,  to  fool 
the  Yankees,  the  errand  would  have  been — if  not  more  honora 
ble — at  least  less  odious  for  a  Southerner,  not  so  treacherous; 
but  to  go  and  deceive  the  trusting  South,  now  when  the  entire 
country  is  so  impoverished,  so  distressed,  that  act,  I  say,  is  inhu 
man,  is  ignominious.  No  words  of  reprobation  can  be  too  severe 
to  stigmatize  a  man  capable  of  being  so  heartless." 

"  Truly,  but  the  instigators  are  as  much  to  blame  as  the  tool 
they  used.  They  should  be  stigmatized  also  as  corrupters,  as 
most  malignant,  debasing,  unscrupulous  men,"  said  Mr.  Holman. 
"  men  who  are  harmful  to  society,  because  they  reward  dishon 
orable  acts;  because  they  reward,  with  money,  the  blackest 
treason ! " 

"  Can  it  be  possible  that  Governor  Stanford  had  any  knowl 
edge  that  his  associate  was  sending  Doctor  Culler  on  that  dis 
graceful  errand  ?  "  Don  Mariano  queried. 

"  It  looks  like  it,  but  let  us  hope  he  did  not,"  Mr.  Holman 
replied. 

"  Yes,  let  us  hope  also  that  Mr.  Lawrence  Mechlin  was  mis 
informed,  and  Doctor  Culler  has  not  been  guilty  of  anything  so 
atrocious,"  the  Don  said. 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE    DON.  337 

It  was  finally  decided  that  the  three  friends  would  go  to  San 
Francisco  at  the  same  time  that  Lizzie  would  be  going.  She 
had  made  a  flying  visit  to  her  family  at  San  Diego,  and  Gabriel 
was  calling  loudly  for  her  to  return,  saying  that  after  banking 
hours  he  felt  lonely  and  missed  her  dreadfully. 

Lizzie,  therefore,  had  three  gentlemen  for  her  escort,  and  in  a 
few  days  they  all  steamed  away  for  the  city  of  the  sand  dunes. 

The  first  day  in  the  city  Don  Mariaho  devoted  to  raising  a 
sum  of  money  by  a  mortgage  on  his  rancho,  as  he  needed  the 
money  to  pay  taxes  on  the  land  occupied  by  the  squatters;  but 
the  day  after,  the  three  friends  presented  themselves  at  the  rail 
road  office  and  inquired  for  Governor  Stanford.  They  were 
told  that  he  had  just  left  the  office,  but  that  he  would  be  there 
on  the  following  day.  As  they  were  leaving  the  office,  they  met 
a  Mr.  Perin,  a  friend  whom  they  had  not  seen  for  some  time. 
When  they  had  exchanged  greetings,  Mr.  Perin  asked  them  if 
they  had  come  to  see  Governor  Stanford.  On  being  told  that 
such  was  the  case,  he  said: 

"  It  is  well  that  you  did  not  see  him,  for  he  is  not  in  a  very 
good  humor  to-day,  and  as  for  Mr.  C,  he  is  like  a  bear  with  a 
sore  head — furious  at  Tom  Scott." 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  What  has  Tom  Scott  done  to  anger 
his  persecutors  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Holman. 

"  It  seems  they  need  money  and  can't  raise  as  much  as  they 
want,  while  Huntington  keeps  clamoring  for  more  to  kill  Tom 
Scott  together  with  the  Texas  Pacific,"  was  the  answer. 

"  The  earnings  of  the  Central  Pacific  this  last  year  were  sev 
enteen  millions  of  dollars.  How  are  they  in  such  need  of  money? 
Is  not  that  enough  to  kill  Colonel  Scott  ?  "  Mr.  Mechlin  asked. 
"  Why  do  they  want  more  ?  " 

"  Because,  if  their  earnings  had  been  seventy  millions,  these 
men  would  still  be  in  need  of  money,"  Mr.  Perin  said. 

"Why  so?" 

"  Because,  as  they  wish  to  absorb  all  the  carrying  business  of 
this  coast — in  fact,  all  sorts  of  business — they  want  money, 
money,  money.  They  want  to  buy  steamboats,  ferry-boats,  ocean 


33*5  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE  DON. 

steamers;  street  railroads  and  street  cars;  coal  mines  and  farms; 
in  fact,  they  want  everything,  and  want  it  more  when  some  poor 
devil  loses  his  business  thereby  and  goes,  frozen  out,  into  the 
cold  world.  So  you  see,  to  go  into  such  a  variety  of  business 
besides  railroading  and  killing  Tom  Scott,  it  costs  money.  It 
takes  millions  and  millions  to  kill  and  freeze  out  so  many 
people." 

"I  hope  they'll  be  disappointed  in  killing  Colonel  Scott," 
said  Don  Mariano.  "  That  would  mean  death  to  many  others." 

"  I  hope  so,  too,  but  I  hear  that  Mr.  Huntington  devoutly 
prays  that  a  kind  Providence  may  enable  him  '  to  see  grass 
growing  over  Tom  Scott"'  Mr.  Perin  replied. 

"  Yes,  my  brother  wrote  me  that  Huntington  does  say  that 
he  hopes  to  worry  Scott  to  death,  and  '  see  grass  grouting  over 
his  grave.'  I  fear  he  will  see  grass  growing  over  many  graves 
if  he  succeeds  in  killing  the  Texas  Pacific,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin. 

"  He  is  trying  hard  to  do  that,  and  his  associates  are  backing 
him  up  with  millions,"  Mr.  Perin  said. 

"  Then  Heaven  help  us  poor  people  who  have  invested  our 
all,  believing  that  San  Diego  would  have  a  railroad,"  said  Mr. 
Mechlin,  bitterly. 

Next  morning  the  three  friends  went  again  to  the  railroad 
office  and  sent  their  cards  to  Governor  Stanford.  In  a  few 
minutes  the  servant  returned  to  say  that  the  Governor  was  very 
busy,  but  if  the  gentlemen  could  wait  he  would  see  them  as 
soon  as  possible.  The  gentlemen  waited;  they  read  the  morn 
ing  papers  and  looked  over  railroad  guides  to  while  away  time. 

Yes,  they  waited,  but  they  would  have  spared  themselves 
that  trouble,  and  they  would  have  never  made  that  pilgrimage 
from  San  Diego  to  consult  the  oracle  at  San  Francisco,  could 
they  have  read  what  Mr.  Huntington  was  about  that  time  writ 
ing  to  his  associates  concerning  his  modus  operandi  in  Washing 
ton  to  "convince"  Congressmen  to  do  as  he  wished,  to  defeat 
the  Texas  Pacific;  writing  all  about  sending  an  ex-Senator  to 
"switch  off  the  South"  and  there  to  pretend  to  be  an  anti-subsidy 
Democrat,  and  to  state  falsely  that  the  Texas  Pacific  would 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  339 

injure  the  South.  All  this,  however,  was  only  known  lately, 
when  Mr.  Huntington's  letters  were  made  public.  At  that 
time  the  three  friends,  thinking  it  impossible  that  the  rights  of 
Southern  California  would  be  so  utterly  disregarded,  did  not 
see  any  absurdity  in  interviewing  the  Governor. 

While  they  waited  they  had  an  opportunity  of  hearing  several 
instructive  matters  freely  mentioned.  One  of  these  was  the  way 
of  avoiding  the  payment  of  taxes,  and  how  to  fight  the  cases  in 
the  courts.  The  gentlemen  who  discussed  the  subject  evidently 
understood  it  and  were  waiting  to  have  an  audience.  Their 
talk  suggested  a  very  sad  train  of  thoughts  to  Don  Mariano,  as 
he  heard  that  the  railroad  people  did  not  mean  to  pay  taxes, 
and  would  resist  the  law.  He  thought  how  those  millionaires 
would  pay  no  taxes,  and  defy  the  law  openly  and  fight  to  the 
bitter  end,  whilst  he  was  not  only  obliged  to  pay  taxes  upon  a 
too  highly  appraised  property,  but  must  also  pay  taxes  for 
the  land  occupied  by  the  squatter  and  on  the  improvements 
thereon !  As  a  necessary  sequence  to  such  unjust,  unreasona 
ble,  inhuman  taxation,  Don  Mariano  had  been  obliged  to  mort 
gage  his  rancho  to  raise  funds  to  pay  the  taxes  of  the  squatters. 
With  the  yearly  sales  of  his  cattle  he  had  always  been  able  to 
pay  his  own  taxes  as  well  as  those  of  his  unwelcome  neighbors, 
but  as  his  cattle  were  now  lost,  his  only  resource  was  his  land. 
Not  yet  having  the  patent,  he  could  not  sell  to  advantage  at  all. 
He  must  therefore  mortgage. 

"  If  I  were  a  railroad  prince,  I  suppose  I  would  not  be  forced 
to  pay  taxes  for  the  squatters  on  my  land,"  said  Don  Mariano 
to  his  friends,  smiling  sadly  to  hear  how  the  taxes  on  railroad 
property  were  to  be  fought. 

"  If  you  were  a  railroad  prince,  you  would  not  pay  your  own 
taxes,  much  less  those  of  the  squatters,"  said  Mr.  Holman. 

"  I  think  you  ought  not  to  hesitate  to  use  the  money  that 
Clarence  paid  for  your  cattle.  If  they  ran  away,  it  was  not  your 
fault,"  Mr.  Mechlin  said. 

"No,  not  my  fault,  but  my  misfortune;  a  misfortune  which 
I  have  no  right  to  put  on  Clarence's  shoulders.  I  did  not 


340  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

deliver  the  cattle;  I  don't  take  the  pay.  I  am  going  to  mort 
gage  my  land,  but  I  can't  avoid  it,"  Don  Mariano  replied. 

"  It  is  certainly  a  very  hard  case  to  have  to  mortgage  your 
property  to  pay  taxes  for  the  squatters,"  observed  Mr.  Holman. 

"  If  these  railroad  men  will  only  let  us  have  the  Texas  Pacific 
all  will  be  right,  but  if  not,  then  the  work  of  ruining  me  begun  by 
the  squatters  will  be  finished  by  the  millionaires — if  they  kill 
our  railroad,"  said  Don  Mariano  sadly,  adding:  "Our  legisla 
tors  then  will  complete  their  work.  Our  legislators  began  my 
ruin;  our  legislators  will  end  it." 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
SAN  DIEGO'S  SENTENCE  is  IRREVOCABLE". 

After  waiting  in  the  reception  room  for  nearly  two  hours, 
Don  Mariano  and  his  two  friends  were  at  last  ushered  into  the 
presence  of  ex-Governor  Stanford.  He  was  so  well  hid  be 
hind  his  high  desk,  that  looking  around  the  empty  room,  Mr. 
Holman  observed  : 

"Well,  I  hope  this  is  not  to  be  a  second  stage  of  waiting." 

Mr.  Stanford  arose,  bowing  from  behind  his  desk,  said  : 

"Be  seated,  gentlemen.  Excuse  my  having  kept  you  wait 
ing."  Then  seeing  that  there  were  but  two  chairs  near  by,  and 
only  one  more  at  the  furthest  corner  of  the  room,  he  added, 
going  to  bring  the  chair :  "I  thought  that  there  were  chairs  for 
you." 

Don  Mariano,  too,  had  started  for  the  same  chair,  now  that 
its  existence  was  discovered,  but  the  Governor  got  there  first, 
and  brought  it  half  way,  then  the  Don  took  it  and  occu 
pied  it. 

When  all  were  seated,  Governor  Stanford  said  in  his  low, 
agreeable  voice,  which  any  one  might  suppose  would  indicate 
a  benevolent,  kind  heart : 

"What  can  I  do  for  you,  gentlemen?" 

Don  Mariano  laughed  outright.  The  situation  struck  him 
as  being  eminently  ridiculous.  Here  was  this  man,  who  held 
pitilessly  their  destiny  in  his  hands — held  it  with  a  grip  of 
iron — and  not  one  thought  of  the  distress  he  caused;  he, 
through  his  associate,  Huntington,  was  lavishing  money  in 
Washington  to  kill  the  Texas  Pacific,  and  thus  snatch  away 
from  them  (the  three  friends)  the  means  of  support,  absolutely 
deprive  them  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  and  he  asked  them 


342  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

what  he  could  do?  and  asked  it  with  that  deep-toned,  rich 
melody  of  voice  which  vibrated  softly,  as  if  full  of  sympa 
thy,  that  overflowed  frorh  a  heart  filled  with  philanthrophy, 
generosity  and  good  will.  This  was  a  sad  and  cruel  irony, 
which  to  Don  Mariano  made  their  position  absurd,  to  the 
point  of  being  laughable. 

"This  is  like  laughing  at  a  funeral,"  said  Don  Mariano, 
apologetically.  "Please  pardon  me.  What  made  me  laugh 
was  that  I  felt  like  answering  you  by  saying,  'Governor,  you 
can  do  for  us  all  we  ask.'  But — but — " 

"Say  it  out.     But  what?"  said  the  Governor,  smiling. 

"But  will  do  nothing  for  us,"  finished  Mr.  Holman. 

"That  is  to  say,  for  San  Diego,"  added  Mr.  Mechlin, 
afraid  that  it  might  seem  as  if  they  came  to  ask  a  personal 
favor. 

"Ah!  it  is  of  San  Diego  that  you  wish  to  speak  to  me? 
Then,  truly,  I  fear  I  can  do  nothing  for  you,"  the  Governor 
said. 

"But  you  can  hear  what  we  wish  to  say  to  you,"  Mr.  Hol 
man  interposed,  with  a  sickly  effort  at  smiling. 

"Certainly.  But  really,  gentlemen,  you  must  excuse  me  for 
saying  that  I  am  very  busy  to-day,  and  can  only  give  you  a 
half  hour." 

They  all  bowed. 

Mr.  Mechlin  and  Don  Mariano  looked  at  Mr.  Holman,  as 
it  was  understood  that  he  would  be  spokesman.  But  Mr. 
Holman's  heart  was  leaping  with  the  indignation  of  a  lion,  and 
then  shrinking  with  the  discouragement  of  a  mouse  into  such 
small  contractions — all  of  which  he  in  no  way  must  reveal — 
that  for  a  minute  he  could  not  speak. 

"  I  suppose  the  San  Diego  people  wish  me  to  build  them  a 
railroad,  isn't  that  it?"  said  the  man  of  power,  slowly  arrang 
ing  some  papers  on  his  desk. 

"Or  to  let  some  one  else  build  it,"  said  Mr.  Holman. 

The  Governor  colored  slightly,  in  evident  vexation. 

"Tom  Scott,  for  instance,"  said  he,  sneeringly.     "Take  my 


THE    SgUATTEK    AND    THE    DON.  343 

advice,  gentlemen,  and  don't  you  pin  your  faith  on  Tom  Scott. 
He'll  build  no  Texas  Pacific,  I  assure  you." 

"Then  why  don't  you  build  it?"  asked  Mr.  Mechlin. 

"Because  it  won't  pay,"  was  the  dry  reply. 

"Why  won't  it  pay  ?  We  have  plenty  of  natural  jresources, 
which,  if  developed,  would  make  plenty  of  business  for  two 
railroads,"  Mr.  Holman  said. 

"Only  the  San  Diego  people  say  so.  No  one  else  thinks  of 
San  Diego  County,  but  as  a  most  arid  luckless  region,  where 
it  never  rains." 

"That  is  the  talk  of  San  Francisco  people,  Governor,  be 
cause  they  want  all  the  railroads  to  come  to  their  city,  and  no 
where  else,"  said  Don  Mariano. 

"We  have  less  rainfall  in  Southern  California,  on  an  aver 
age,  but  on  average,  too,  we  get  better  crops  than  in  the 
northern  counties  in  dry  years.  How  it  is  I  can't  tell  you,  un 
less  it  be  that  a  given  quantity  of  rain  is  all  that  crops  re 
quire,  and  above  that  it  is  superfluous,  or  else  that  for  certain 
soils  a  certain  amount  of  rainfall  is  all  that  is  required.  It  is 
undoubtedly  true  that  in  dry  years  more  crops  have  been  lost 
in  some  of  the  northern  counties  than  in  ours,"  said  Mr.  Hol 
man. 

"Perhaps,  but  when  we  have  such  magnificent  wheat  coun 
try  in  our  northern  valleys,  it  isn't  to  be  supposed  that  we  can 
give  any  attention  to  San  Diego." 

"If  our  county  does  not  take  the  lead  as  wheat-growing,  it 
certainly  can  take  it  as  fruit-growing.  We  have  no  capital  to 
make  large  plantations  of  vineyards  or  trees,  but  what  has 
been  done  proves,  conclusively,  that  for  grapes,  olives,  figs, 
and  in  fact  all  semi-tropical  fruits,  there  is  no  better  country 
in  the  world." 

"That  may  be  so,  but  you  see  we  are  not  engaged  in  the 
fruit-growing  business.  We  build  railroads  to  transport  freight 
and  passengers.  We  do  not  care  what  or  who  makes  the 
freights  we  carry." 

"Exactly.     But  surely  there  cannot  be  any  reason  why,  if 


344  THE   SQUATTER    AND   THE   DON. 

San  Diego  should  have  freights  and  passengers  to  be  carried, 
that  we  should  not  have  a  railroad." 

"Certainly  not.     If  you  can  get  it,  do  so,  of  course." 

"Then,  Governor,  that  is  why  we  came  to  talk  with  you. 
Is  San  Diego's  death  sentence  irrevocable?  Is  it  absolutely  de 
termined  by  you  that  San  Diego  is  not  to  have  a  railroad?" 
asked  Mr.  Holman. 

"Well,  that  is  a  hard  question  to  answer.  No,  perhaps  for 
the  present  San  Diego  will  not  have  a  railroad,"  said  he,  with 
cool  nonchalance. 

"What  do  you  caller  the  present?     How  long?" 

"That  is  a  harder  question  yet.  You  see,  if  we  effect  a 
compromise  with  Mr.  Scott,  we  will  keep  on  building  the 
Southern  Pacific  until  we  meet  his  road,  and  then,  as  all  the 
Eastern  freight  can  come  by  the  Southern  Pacific,  there  will 
not  be  any  necessity  of  another  railroad." 

"In  other  words,  San  Diego  must  be  strangled.  There  will 
not  be  any  Texas  Pacific?"  said  Mr.  Holman. 

"No,  not  in  California,"  the  Governor  calmly  asserted,  pass 
ing  over  the  subject  as  of  no  consequence,  if  a  hundred  San 
Diegos  perished  by  strangulation. 

"By  the  terms  of  the  Southern  Pacific  charter  were  you  not 
to  build  to  San  Diego?"  asked  Mr.  Mechlin. 

"Yes;  that  is  to  say,  through  San  Diego  to  the  Colorado 
River,  but  that  wouldn't  suit  us  at  all.  Still,  I  think  that  after 
a  while,  perhaps,  when  we  have  more  time,  we  might  build  to 
San  Diego  from  some  point  of  the  Southern  Pacific  that  we 
see  is  convenient,"  said  he,  as  if  it  didn't  matter  what  the  terms 
of  the  Southern  Pacific  charter  were,  knowing  that  Congress 
would  not  enforce  them. 

"A  little  branch  road,"  observed  Mr.  Holman. 

"Yes;  that  is  all  we  think  is  necessary  for  our  purpose." 

"Then  to  sum  up,  what  we  must  understand  is,  that  San 
Diego  cannot  hope  to  be  a  western  terminus  of  a  transconti 
nental  railway;  that  all  we  may  hope  to  get  is  a  little  branch 
road  from  some  point  convenient  to  the  Southern  Pacific  Rail- 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  345 

road."  Mr.  Stanford  bowed.  "And  yet,"  Mr.  Holman  con 
tinued,  "by  right,  San  Diego  is  the  terminal  point  of  a  trans 
continental  railway,  and  San  Diego  ought  to  be  the  shipping 
point  for  all  that  immense  country  comprising  Arizona,  South 
ern  California  and  Northern  Mexico.  We  are  more  than  five 
hundred  miles  nearer  to  those  countries  than  San  Francisco, 
thus  you  will  be  making  people  travel  six  hundred  miles  more 
than  is  necessary  to  get  to  a  shipping  point  on  the  Pacific." 

"So  much  more  business  for  our  road,"  Mr.  Stanford  said, 
laughing,  in  a  dignified  way,  and  slightly  elevating  his  eye 
brows  and  shoulders,  as  if  to  indicate  that  really  the  matter 
hardly  merited  his  consideration. 

"But  without  asking  or  expecting  you  to  take  any  sentimen 
tal  or  philosophic  or  moralizing  view  of  our  case  as  a  benefac 
tor^  will  you  not  take  into  consideration,  as  a  business  man,  the 
immense  benefit  that  there  will  be  to  yourselves  to  have  con 
trol  of  the  trade  which  will  be  the  result  of  uniting  Southern 
California  with  Arizona,  with  the  Southern  States  and  North 
ern  Mexico,  and  developing  those  vast  countries  now  lying 
useless,  scarcely  inhabited." 

"Oh,  yes;  we  have  thought  of  that,  I  suppose,  but  we  are 
too  busy  up  here.  We  have  too  much  business  on  hand  nearer 
us  to  think  of  attending  to  those  wild  countries." 

"Then,  Governor,  let  some  one  else  attend  to  them.  We 
have  only  one  life  to  live,  and,  really,  much  as  we  would  like 
to  await  your  pleasure,  we  cannot  arrest  the  march  of  time. 
Time  goes  on,  and  as  it  slips  by,  ruin  approaches  us.  We  in 
vested  all  our  means  in  San  Diego,  hoping  that  Colonel  Scott 
would  build  his  railroad.  Now  we  see  plainly  that  unless  you 
withdraw  your  opposition  to  Scott  we  are  ruined  men,  and 
many  more  innocent  people  are  in  the  same  situation.  So  we 
come  to  you  and  say,  if  you  will  not  let  any  one  else  build  us 
a  railroad,  then  do  build  it  yourself.  It  will  save  us  from  ruin 
and  give  you  untold  wealth.  We  will  be  glad  to  see  you  make 
millions  if  we  only  secure  for  ourselves  our  bread  and  butter," 
said  Mr.  Holman. 


346  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"Our  bread;  never  mind  the  butter,"  said  Don  Mariano, 
smiling. 

"Why,  you  at  least  have  plenty  of  cows  to  make  butter," 
said  Mr.  Stanford,  addressing  Sefior  Alamar,  evidently  wishing 
to  avoid  the  subject,  by  turning  it  off. 

"  No,  sir,  I  haven't.  The  squatters  at  my  rancho  shot  and 
killed  my  cattle,  so  that  I  was  obliged  to  send  off  those  that  I 
had  left,  and  in  doing  this  a  snow-storm  overtook  us,  and  nearly 
all  my  animals  perished  then.  The  Indians  will  finish  those 
which  survived  the  snow." 

"Those  Indians  are  great  thieves,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  sir;  but  not  so  bad  to  me  as  the  squatters.  The 
Indians  kill  my  cattle  to  eat  them,  whereas  the  squatters  did 
so  to  ruin  me.  Thus,  having  now  lost  all  my  cattle,  I  have 
only  my  land  to  rely  upon  for  a  living — nothing  else.  Hence 
my  great  anxiety  to  have  the  Texas  Pacific.  My  land  will  be 
very  valuable  if  we  have  a  railroad  and  our  county  becomes 
more  settled;  but  if  not,  my  land,  like  everybody  else's  land  in 
our  county,  will  be  unsaleable,  worthless.  A  railroad  soon  is 
our  only  salvation." 

"That  is  bad,"  Mr.  Stanford  said,  looking  at  his  watch. 
"But  I  don't  see  how  I  can  help  you  San  Diego  people.  If 
Mr.  Huntington  effects  some  compromise  with  Mr.  Scott,  we 
will  then  build  a  branch  road,  as  I  said." 

"And  what  if  there  is  no  compromise?" 

"Then,  of  course,  there  will  be  no  road  for  you  -that  is  to 
say,  no  Texas  Pacific  in  California." 

"Why  not,  Governor?  'Live  and  let  live,'"  Don  Mariano 
said. 

"You  don't  seem  to  think  of  business  principles.  You  for 
get  that  in  business  every  one  is  for  himself.  If  it  is  to  our  in 
terest  to  prevent  the  construction  of  the  Texas  Pacific,  do  you 
suppose  we  will  stop  to  consider  that  we  might  inconvenience 
the  San  Diego  people?" 

"  It  is  not  a  matter  of  inconvenience — it  is  ruin,  it  is  pov 
erty,  suffering,  distress;  perhaps  despair  and  death,"  said  Mr. 


THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  347 

Mechlin.  "Our  merchants,  our  farmers,  all,  the  entire  county 
will  suffer  great  distress  or  ruin,  for  they  have  embarked  theii 
all  in  the  hope  of  immediate  prosperity,  in  the  hope  that  emi 
gration  would  come  to  us,  should  our  town  be  the  western 
terminus." 

"You  should  have  been  more  cautious;  not  so  rash." 

"How  could  we  have  foreseen  that  you  would  prevent  the 
construction  of  the  Texas  Pacific?" 

"  Easily.  By  studying  business  principles ;  by  perceiving 
it  would  be  to  our  interest  to  prevent  it." 

"We  never  thought,  and  do  not  think  now,  that  it  is  to  your 
interest  to  prevent  it.  But  even  if  we  had  thought  so,  we  would 
not  have  supposed  that  you  would  attempt  it,"  Mr.  Mechlin 
replied. 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  it  would  have  seemed  to  us  impossible  that  you 
could  have  succeeded/' 

"Why  impossible?" 

"Because  we  would  have  thought  that  the  American  people 
would  interfere ;  that  Congress  would  respect  the  rights  of  the 
Southern  people." 

Mr.  Stanford  laughed,  saying:  "The  American  people  mind 
their  business,  and  know  better  than  to  interfere  with  ours. 
All  I  can  tell  you,  gentlemen,  is  that  if  Mr.  Scott  does  not  agree 
to  come  no  further  than  the  Colorado  River,  he  shall  not  be 
able  to  get  the  interest  of  his  bonds  guaranteed  by  our  Govern 
ment,  which  means  that  he  will  not  have  money  to  build  his 
road — no  Congressional  aid  at  all." 

"You  seem  very  sure  of  Congress?" 

"I  am  sure  of  what  I  say." 

"But,  Governor,  the  Government  helped  you  to  build  your 
roads,  why  don't  you  let  it  help  ours?" 

"Who  told  you  that?"  said  he,  with  an-  angry  expression, 
like  a  dark  shadow  passing  over  his  face.  "Who  told  you 
that  the  Government  helped  us  to  build  the  Southern  Pa 
cific?" 


348  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"The  Government  gave  you  a  grant  of  many  millions  of 
acres  to  help  build  it,  as  the  Central  Pacific  was  constructed 
with  Government  subsidies,  and  the  earning  of  the  Central  Pa 
cific  were  used  to  construct  the  Southern  Pacific,  it  follows 
that  you  were  helped  by  the  Government  to  build  both,"  said 
Mr.  Holman. 

"You  are  talking  of  something  you  know  nothing  about. 
The  help  the  Government  gave  us  was  to  guarantee  the  inter 
est  of  our  bonds.  We  accepted  that  help,  because  we  knew 
that,  as  private  individuals,  we  might  not  command  the  credit 
necessary  to  place  our  bonds  in  the  market,  that's  all.  As 
for  the  land  subsidy,  we  will  pay  every  cent  of  its  price 
with  our  services.  We  do  not  ask  of  the  Government  to  give 
us  anything  gratis.  We  will  give  value  received  for  every 
thing." 

"  That  is  certainly  a  very  ingenious  view  to  take  of  the 
whole  matter,  and  so  viewing  it,  of  course  the  killing  of  the 
Texas  Pacific  seems  justifiable  to  you,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin. 

"Carlyle,  in  your  place,  would  not  view  your  position  like 
that,  Governor,"  said  Don  Mariano,  rising. 

"Nor  Herbert  Spencer,  either.  His  ideas  of  what  you  call 
business  principles  are  different,"  added  Mr.  Holman. 

"Pray,  what  would  those  great  thinkers  say?" 

"  Carlyle  would  think  you  are  much  to  blame  for  flinging 
away  a  magnificent  chance  to  be  great  and  heroic.  Carlyle 
worships  heroes,  but  his  idea  of  heroism  is  not  only  applicable 
to  warriors  and  conquerors,  but  to  any  one  capable  of  rising 
to  a  high  plane  of  thought  or  heroic  endeavor,  doing  acts 
which  require  great  self-denial  for  our  fellow-beings,  for  human 
ity's  sake,  with  no  view  or  expectation  of  reward  in  money," 
Mr.  Mechlin  said. 

The  Governor  smiled,  and  with  the  least  perceptible  sneer 
he  asked: 

"And  how  does  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  differ  with  my  ideas 
of  business  principles?" 

"He  differs  in  this,  that  he  thinks  that  commercial  honor, 


THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  349 

business  morality,  should  be  based  on  strict  rectitude,  on  the 
purest  equity.  That  so  soon  as  any  one  in  the  pursuit  of  riches 
knowingly  and  wilfully  will  injure  any  one  else,  that  he  then 
violates  the  principle  upon  which  commerce  should  rest,"  Mr. 
Holm  an  replied. 

"But  that  is  absurd.     Would  he  stop  competition?" 

"Not  at  all.  Competition  generally  has  the  effect  of  secur 
ing  the  preference  to  whomsoever  deserves  it.  No,  what  Mr. 
Spencer  maintains  is  that  monopolies  should  not  exist  when 
they  have  become  so  powerful  that  they  defy  the  law,  and  use 
their  power  to  the  injury  of  others.  The  fundamental  princi 
ple  of  morality  is  then  subverted,"  said  Mr:  Holman. 

"Fundamental  morality  forbids  us  to  injure  any  one  be 
cause  we  would  be  benefited  by  that  injury,"  said  Don  Ma 
riano. 

"The  same  old  axiom  of  the  French  revolution,  that  'the 
rights  of  one  man  end  where  those  of  another  begin.'  Danton 
and  Marat  sang  that  to  the  music  of  the  guillotine,"  said  the 
Governor,  a  little  bit  contemptuously. 

"  That  is  so ;  but  you  see,  Governor,  the  devil  might  sing 
psalms,  and  it  won't  hurt  the  psalms,"  Don  Mariano  re 
plied. 

"We  have  made  you  waste  your  time  talking  to  us,  Gover 
nor,"  said  Mr.  Holman;  "can  we  not  hope  that  you  will  re 
consider  this  matter,  and  examine  more  carefully  the  advantages 
of  making  San  Diego  the  direct  outlet  for  all  that  country 
that  needs  a  railroad  so  much?  Believe  me,  sir,  such  road 
will  bring  you  more  millions  than  the  Central  and  Southern 
Pacific  Railroads.  If  you  do  not  build  it,  and  prevent  Col. 
Scott  from  building  it,  sooner  or  later  some  one  else  will,  for 
it  stands  to  reason  that  such  a  magnificent  enterprise  will  not 
be  left  neglected  after  other  less  advantageous  routes  are  tried. 
Then  you  will  have  the  regret  of  having  spurned  this  golden 
chance." 

"And  besides  the  chance  of  making  millions  for  yourselves. 
Think  of  the  blessings  you  will  bring  to  so  many  hearts,  who 


35°  THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

are  now  sadly  discouraged,  and  will  be  desolate  if  our  hopes 
are  frustrated,"  Mr.  Mechlin  said. 

"Corporations  have  no  souls,  gentlemen,  and  I  am  no  Car 
lylean  hero-philanthropist.  I  am  only  a  most  humble  '•public 
carrier}  I  do  not  aspire  to  anything  more  than  taking  care 
of  my  business,"  Mr.  Stanford  answered. 

"But,  Governor,  you  cannot  be  indifferent  to  the  distress  your 
action  will  cause?"  insisted  Mr.  Mechlin,  with  sad  earnestness. 

"As  for  that,"  replied  Mr.  Stanford,  smiling;  "if  I  don't 
cause  distress  some  one  else  will.  Distress  there  must  be, 
bound  to  be  in  this  world,  in  spite  of  all  that  your  philanthro 
pists  might  do  or  say  to  prevent  it." 

"But  do  you  not  think  that  if  all  and  every  one  of  those  who 
have  it  in  their  power  to  be  beneficent  were  not  so  indifferent 
to  human  suffering,  but  were  to  be  benevolent,  that  then  the 
combined  result  would  be  great  alleviation  and  diminution  of 
human  distress?" 

"No;  because  those  who  have  power  to  do  good  are  very 
few,  and  the  improvident,  the  vicious,  the  lazy  are  in  myriads; 
and  they  and  their  folly  and  vices  and  improvidence  will,  for 
ever,  more  than  counterbalance  the  good  that  the  beneficent 
might  effect,"  Mr.  Stanford  asserted. 

Mr.  Mechlin  arose  and  turned  towards  the  door.  Mr.  Hoi- 
man  followed  his  example.  Seiior  Alamar  looked  sadly  at  the 
floor,  saying : 

"Well,  Governor,  I  am  sorry  we  have  failed  in  bringing  you 
to  our  way  of  thinking,  Time  will  show  who  is  mistaken." 

"  Oh,  yes !  Time  will  show.  We  can't  cast  any  astrological 
horoscope  at  the  birth  of  a  railroad.  All  we  can  do  is  to  take 
care  that  it  thrives." 

"To  clear  away  competition." 

"  Exactly.  The  country  is  not  settled  enough  yet  to  divide 
profits.  Besides,  we  think  that  Eastern  people  ought  not  to 
build  any  roads  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  when  we  of  California  are 
ready  to  do  it.  Let  Tom  Scott  keep  away.  We  don't  build 
roads  in  Pennsylvania." 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  351 

"  But  are  you  sure  you  will  always  be  able  to  prevent  a  com 
peting  road  ?  Would  it  not  be  cheaper  for  yourself  to  build 
than  to  fight  Tom  Scott?" 

"  No  indeed.  For  the  present,  it  is  cheaper  to  fight.  It 
don't  cost  so  much  money  to  make  friends,"  said  he,  smiling. 

"  You  seem  very  confident  of  success." 

"  Money  commands  success,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  money  is  everything !  And  it  weighs  not  a  feather,  all 
the  ruin  and  squalor  and  death  you  will  bring  to  a  people  who 
never  harmed  you !  Not  a  feather's  weight,  as  against  the  accu 
mulation  of  money  for  yourselves,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin,  forget 
ting  his  usual  consideration  for  others'  feelings. 

"  If  I  did  not  cause  this  misery  you  apprehend,  some  one 
would.  Be  sure  of  it,  for  there  will  always  be  misery  in  the 
world,  no  matter  who  causes  it,"  the  Governor  replied,  with  an 
air  of  being  satisfied  with  his  philosophy,  inasmuch  as  he  was 
to  be  exempt  from  human  suffering,  no  matter  who  went  under. 

Mr.  Mechlin,  still  lingering  sadly,  and  veiling  his  great  dis 
approbation  of  Mr.  Stanford's  practical  philosophy,  said: 

"  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer  also,  in  elucidating  his  principles, 
reminds  us  of  the  fact  that  'Misery  is  the  highway  to  death, 
while  happiness  is  added  life,  and  the  giver  of  life.'  Think  of 
this,  Governor.  Surely,  you  do  not  wish  to  make  us  so  miser 
able  that  you  cause  death!  Yes,  death  from  poverty  and 
despair.  Poverty,  overwork  and  discouragement  are  the  causes 
of  sickness  and  death  oftener  than  it  is  supposed,  and  this  Mr. 
Spencer  also  maintains  unswervingly." 

"You  have  a  very  vivid  imagination;  you  color  up  things 
too  dark,"  said  the  Governor,  also  rising. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  be  sorry  to  have  thought  so.  I  hope 
you  will  not  regret  that  you  closed  your  heart  and  your  mind 
against  us,  against  justice,  humanity  and  reason."  So  saying, 
Mr.  Mechlin  slowly  walked  off;  then  at  the  door  he  turned, 
and  lifting  his  finger,  said  to  Don  Mariano:  "  I  feel  a  prophetic 
warning  that  neither  you  nor  I  will  ever  see  light  in  this  world. 
These  men — this  deadly,  soulless  corporation,  which,  like  a 


352  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

black  cloud,  has  shut  out  the  light  from  San  Diego's  horizon — 
will  evermore  cast  the  shadow  that  will  be  our  funeral  pall. 
But  let  them  look  to  it,  they  might  yet  carry  their  heartless 
rapacity  beyond  limit.  The  mighty  monopoly,  that  has  no  soul 
to  feel  responsibility,  no  heart  for  human  pity,  no  face  for  manly 
blush — that  soulless,  heartless,  shameless  monster — might  yet 
fall  of  its  own  weight."  So  saying,  Mr.  Mechlin  walked  away, 
as  if  he  intended  this  prophecy  to  be  a  parting  salutation  to 
the  men  who  had  blighted  his  life  and  made  him  utterly  hope 
less. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV. 

THE  SINS  OF  OUR  LEGISLATORS! 

"'Asscy  de  Bonaparte  /'  cried  France,  in  1814.  Men  found 
that  his  absorbing  egotism  was  deadly  to  all  other  men,"  says 
Mr.  Emerson.  "It  was  not  Bonaparte's  fault.  He  did  all 
that  in  him  lay  to  live  and  thrive  without  moral  principle.  It 
was  the  nature  of  things,  the  eternal  law  of  the  man  and  the 
world,  which  balked  and  ruined  him;  and  the  result  in  a  mil 
lion  experiments  would  be  the  same.  Every  experiment  by 
multitudes  or  by  individuals,  that  has  a  sensual  or  selfish  aim, 
will  fail.  The  Pacific  Fourier  will  be  as  inefficient  as  the  per 
nicious  Napoleon.  As  long  as  our  civilization  is  essentially 
one  of  property,  of  exclusiveness,  it  will  be  mocked  by  delu 
sions.  Our  riches  will  leave  us  sick;  there  will  be  bitterness  in 
our  laughter,  and  our  wine  will  burn  our  mouth.  Only  that 
good  profits  which  serves  all  men." 

Yes,  only  that  good  profits  which  does  not  represent  the 
misery  of  others ;  only  that  wine  should  be  sweet  which  is 
not  drunk  when  the  tears  of  those  we  have  rendered  desolate 
are  silently  running  over  pale  cheeks  from  eyes  that  have  kept 
the  vigil  of  want,  mourning  for  the  beloved  to  whom  poverty 
brought  death  ! 

In  heavenly-inspired  words  Emerson  and  Carlyle  and  Her 
bert  Spencer  have  repeated  those  burning  aphorisms,  but  our 
California  "Fire  Pillars"  differ  with  them — differ  widely  and 
differ  proudly. 

Mr.  Stanford  says  that  if  he  did  not  cause  misery  some  one 
else  would,  for  "misery  there  must  always  be  in  this  world 7" 
Sound  philosophy,  truly !  Why  should  he  recoil  from  adding 
to  the  sum  total  of  human  misery  when  so  many  others  do  the 
same! 


354  THE   SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

Mr.  Huntington  was  about  the  same  time  writing  from 
Washington  that  he  would  "  see  the  grass  grow  over  Tom  Scott" 
before  he  stopped  his  work  of  convincing  Congressmen.  And 
he  kept  his  word. 

He  carried  conviction  to  Washington,  distress  to  the  South 
and  ruin  to  San  Diego. 

Mr.  Crocker  was  answering,  "Anything  to  beat  Tom  Scott!" 
The  thing  was  to  prevent  the  construction  of  San  Diego's  rail 
road,  no  matter  to  whom  ruin  came  thereby.  "No  matter  how 
many  were  sacrificed." 

Nothing  was  more  hopeless,  therefore,  than  to  suppose 
that  any  of  those  men  would  swerve  one  iota  from  their 
course  of  greedy  acquisition,  out  of  respect  for  equity  or  hu 
manity. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  until  the  three  saddened  friends 
reached  Don  Mariano's  parlors  at  the  hotel.  They  had  walked 
silently  out  of  the  railroad  building,  silently  taken  the  street 
car  and  silently  walked  out  of  it,  as  it  happened  to  stop  in 
front  of  their  hotel. 

"  Well,  we  have  failed  sadly,  but  I  am  glad  to  have  had  the 
chance  of  studying  that  piece  of  humanity,  or  rather  I  should 
say  inhumanity,"  Mr.  Mechlin  exclaimed. 

"How  confident  he  is  of  their  power  over  Congress!  And 
he  certainly  means  to  wield  it  as  if  he  came  by  it  legitimately. 
He  is  proud  of  it,"  added  Mr.  Holman. 

"Yes,  but  he  is  wrong  to  be  proud  of  a  power  he  means  to 
use  only  for  selfish  ends.  Sooner  or  later  the  people  will  get 
tired  of  sending  men  to  Congress  who  can  be  bought  so 
easily.  I  am  disappointed  in  Governor  Stanford.  I  thought 
him  much  more  just  and  fair;  a  much  higher  order  of  man," 
said  the  Don.  "  How  coolly  he  laughed  at  us  for  quoting 
Carlyle  and  Spencer !  As  if  he  would  have  said,  '  You  quote 
the  philosophers,  gentlemen,  and  I'll  make  the  millions.  You 
might  die  in  poverty,  /shall  revel  in  wealth."' 

"I  ought  to  have  quoted  Emerson,  when  he  says:  CI  count 
him  a  great  man  who  inhabits  a  higher  sphere  of  thought  into 


THE   SQUATTER    AND   THE   DON.  355 

which  other  men  rise  with  labor  and  difficulty.'  This  might 
have  pointed  out  to  him  how  groveling  it  is  never  to  rise  above 
the  mere  grubbing  for  money.  No,  he  is  not  half  as  large- 
minded  as  I  had  believed,"  said  Mr.  Mechlin. 

"  How  can  he  be  if  he  is  cognizant  of  the  means  employed 
by  Huntington  to  defeat  all  legislation  in  favor  of  the  Texas 
Pacific?"  observed  Mr.  Holman. 

"Yes,  I  fear  now  the  Governor  gives  his  sanction  to  Hunt- 
ington's  work.  I  never  believed  it  before.  I  am  disappointed 
in  the  Governor  as  much  as  in  our  fruitless  errand,"  the  Don 
said. 

"  How  irksome  and  distasteful  it  is  for  him  to  hear  about 
'the  rights  of  others'  He  almost  takes  it  as  an  insult  that  any 
one  but  himself  and  associates  should  have  rights;  and  he 
seems  to  lose  all  patience  at  the  mention  of  the  distress  they 
have  brought  upon  the  people  of  San  Diego  and  the  financial 
ruin  that  their  rapacity  and  heartless  conduct  will  cause  the 
Southern  people,"  said  Mr.  Holman.  "  Did  you  notice  how 
he  frowned  at  the  allusion  to  the  fact  that  the  Central  Pacific 
was  built  with  Government  money  ?  The  mere  mention  irri 
tates  his  nerves." 

"  Does  he  suppose  we  don't  know  that  they  had  no  money, 
and  that  it  was  with  capital  given  as  absolute  gifts,  or  loaned 
to  them  on  the  guarantee  of  the  Government,  that  they  built 
and  are  building  their  roads?"  said  Mr.  Mechlin.  UI  never 
saw  such  complete  subversion  of  the  laws  of  reasoning  as  these 
men  exhibit.  Good  luck  has  made  them  think  that  to  genius 
they  owe  success.  Thus  their  moral  blindness  makes  them 
take  as  an  insulting  want  of  proper  deference  any  allusion  to 
those  rights  of  others  which,  in  their  feverish  greed,  they  tram 
ple.  For  this  reason  they  hate  San  Diego,  because  San  Diego 
is  a  living  proof  of  their  wrong-doing;  a  monument  reminding 
California  of  their  deadly  egotism,  of  the  injury  done  by  un 
scrupulous  men  to  their  fellow-men.  Hence,  my  friends,  I 
say  that  San  Diego  must  have  no  hopes  while  those  men  live." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  are  right,  and  as  I  have  invested  in  San 


356  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

Diego  all  I  have  in  the  world,  I  see  no  hope;  nothing  but 
hard-featured  poverty  staring  me  in  the  face/'  said  Mr.  Holman, 
sadly. 

"  If  it  were  owing  to  natural  laws  of  the  necessities  of  things 
that  San  Diego  is  thus  crippled,  our  fate  would  seem  to  me  less 
hard  to  bear,"  said  Don  Mariano;  "but  to  know  that  the 
necessities  of  commerce,  the  inevitable  increase  of  the  world's 
population,  the  development  of  our  State,  all,  all  demand  that 
Southern  California  be  not  sacrificed,  and  yet  it  is,  and  our 
appeals  to  Congress  are  of  no  avail !  All  this  adds  bitterness 
to  our  disappointment.  Yes,  it  is  bitter  to  be  reduced  to  want, 
only  because  a  few  men,  without  any  merit,  without  any  claims 
upon  the  nation's  gratitude,  desire  more  millions." 

Thus  the  disheartened  friends  discoursed,  fully  realizing  their 
terrible  proximity  to  that  financial  disaster  which  was  sure  to 
overtake  them.  In  the  generosity  and  kindness  of  their  hearts, 
they  felt  added  regret,  thinking  of  so  many  others  who,  in  San 
Diego,  were  in  the  same  position  of  impending  ruin;  so  many 
good,  worthy  people,  who  certainly  did  not  deserve  to  be  thus 
pitilessly  sacrificed;  so  many  who  yet  clung  to  the  hopes  of 
'72,  when  all  rushed  to  buy  city  lots;  so  many  out  of  whose 
hopes  three  years  of  disappointment  had  not  quenched  all 
life.  The  failure  of  Jay  Cook  in  the  fall  of  '73  had  made 
the  financial  heart  of  America  shrink  with  discouragement  and 
alarm,  but  San  Diego  did  not  realize  how  much  her  own  fate 
was  involved  in  that  sad  catastrophe,  and  continued  her  gay 
building  of  proud  castles  in  the  air  and  humble  little  cottages 
on  the  earth— very  close  to  the  earth,  but  covered  with  fragrant 
flowers,  with  roses,  honeysuckles  and  fuchsias.  These  little 
one-story  wooden  cottages  were  intended  for  temporary  dwell 
ings  only.  By  and  by  the  roomy  stone  or  brick  mansions 
would  be  erected,  when  the  Texas  Pacific  Railroad — the  high 
way  of  traffic  across  the  continent — should  bring  through  San 
Diego  the  commerce  between  Asia  and  the  Atlantic  seaboard, 
between  China  and  Europe.  San  Diego  lived  her  short  hour 
of  hope  and  prosperity,  and  smiled  and  went  to  sleep  on  the 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  357 

brink  of  her  own  grave,  the  grave  that  Mr.  C.  P.  Huntington 
had  already  begun  to  excavate,  to  dig  as  he  stealthily  went 
about  the  halls  of  our  National  Capitol  "offering  bribes."  But 
such  "foul  work"  was  then  only  surmised  and  scarcely  believed. 
It  was  reserved  for  Mr.  Huntington  himself  to  furnish  proof 
that  this  was  the  fact.  His  letters  were  not  published  until 
years  after,  but  the  world  has  them  now,  and  the  monopoly, 
with  all  its  power,  cannot  gainsay  them. 

The  three  friends  were  yet  discussing  this  painful  topic  of 
their  pilgrimage,  when  Mr.  Mechlin  observed  that  Don  Mari 
ano  was  looking  very  pale,  and  asked  if  he  felt  ill. 

"Yes,"  Don  Mariano  replied  ;  "  I  feel  very  cold.  I  feel  as  if 
I  was  frozen  through  and  through.  When  we  were  at  the 
Governor's  office  I  felt  very  warm,  and  when  we  came  out  my 
clothing  was  saturated  with  perspiration.  Now  I  feel  as  if  I 
had  been  steeped  in  ice/' 

"This  won't  do.  You  must  change  your  clothes  at  once," 
said  Mr.  Mechlin. 

Mr.  Holman  also  became  alarmed  at  seeing  the  bluish  palor 
of  his  face. 

"Why,  this  is  a  congestive  chill,"  said  he,  hurrying  off  to  call 
the  doctor,  who  resided  at  the  hotel,  and  who  fortunately  was 
at  home. 

Prompt  and  efficient  medical  attendance  saved  Don  Mari 
ano's  life,  but  he  was  too  ill  to  leave  his  bed  for  several  days. 
His  two  friends  remained  with  him,  writing  home  that  busi 
ness  matters  detained  them. 

Dona  Josefa  did  not  feel  anxious;  she  thought  that  her 
husband  was  busy  negotiating  a  loan  on  his  land,  and  this  de 
tained  him. 

Gabriel  and  Lizzie  also  were  in  constant  attendance,  and 
thus  the  sick  man  was  kept  in  a  cheerful  frame  of  mind,  a 
thing  much  to  be  desired  in  sickness  always,  but  more  espec 
ially  in  his  case,  accustomed  as  he  was  to  be  surrounded  by  a 
loving  family. 

Still  he  was  anxious  to  return  home.     Reluctantly  the  doc- 


358  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

tor  allowed  him  to  do  so,  hoping  that  the  salubrious  climate 
of  Southern  California  would  be  beneficial.  But  he  said  to 
him: 

"I  let  you  go  on  condition  that  you  pledge  me  your  word 
to  be  very  careful  not  to  get  into  a  profuse  perspiration  and 
then  rush  out  into  the  cold  air.  If  your  lungs  had  not  been 
originally  so  healthy  and  strong  you  could  not  have  rallied  so 
soon,  if  ever ;  but  they  are  yet  filled  with  phlegm,  and  the  least 
cold  might  give  you  pneumonia."  To  Gabriel  the  doctor  re 
peated  the  same  words  of  warning,  adding:  "Not  only  is  the 
condition  of  your  father's  lungs  very  precarious,  but  also  that 
of  his  heart.  He  must  not  task  either  too  much." 

Gabriel  was  thoroughly  alarmed  at  hearing  the  doctor's 
opinion,  and  immediately  wrote  to  his  mother  how  careful  his 
father  ought  to  be,  and  how  she  should  watch  him. 

Don  Mariano  tried  to  be  careful,  but  having  been  very 
healthy  all  his  life,  he  did  not  know  how  to  be  an  invalid,  nor 
guard  against  fresh  colds. 

About  two  weeks  had  elapsed  since  his  return  from  San 
Francisco,  when  a  notice  that  many  of  his  city  lots  would  be 
sold  for  taxes  brought  Don  Mariano  to  town.  He  still  held  to 
the  belief  that  a  railroad  to  San  Diego  would  surely  be  built  at 
some  future  day,  but  had  ceased  hoping  to  see  that  day.  How 
ever,  he  would  willingly  have  waited  for  a  rise  in  real  estate 
before  selling  any  of  his  city  property,  but  he  saw  it  was  ruin 
ous  for  him  to  pay  taxes — taxes  for  town  property  and  taxes 
for  squatters — it  was  too  much ;  so  he  reluctantly  concluded 
that  it  would  be  best  to  lose  a  great  many  lots  (yes,  whole 
blocks),  permitting  them  to  be  sold  for  taxes,  hoping  to  re 
deem  them  on  the  following  year  if  Tom  Scott  was  more  suc 
cessful  with  the  Texas  Pacific.  Mr.  Mechlin  and  Mr.  Holman 
did  the  same,  and  many  other  unlucky  ones  followed  their 
discouraging  examples.  Thus  city  lots  by  the  hundreds  were 
sold  every  year. 

Don  Mariano  saw  his  city  property  thus  sacrificed  before  his 
eyes  at  public  sale,  just  as  he  had  seen  his  cattle  buried  under 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  359 

the  snow.  He  submitted  in  both  cases  to  the  inevitable 
without  a  murmur;  but  this  time  the  blow  seemed  heavier. 
He  was  pecuniarily  less  able  to  bear  it,  and  being  in  bad 
health  and  discouraged,  his  misfortunes  were  more  depressing. 
He  rode  home  saddened  indeed. 

Victoriano,  who  was  now  able  to  be  about  (but  said  he  mis 
trusted  his  legs),  was  with  him. 

"Father,  why  don't  you  use  some  of  that  money  Clarence 
sent  you?  I  am  sure  he  would  approve  your  doing  so,  and 
feel  glad,  very  glad,  indeed,  that  you  did  it,"  said  Victoriano, 
when  they  had  driven  for  a  long  time  without  uttering  a  word. 

Don  Mariano  turned  sharply  and  said:  "Why  should  I  use 
Clarence's  money?  If  I  had  delivered  the  cattle  to  Fred 
Haverly,  as  it  was  agreed  I  should,  then  I  would  have  a 
right  to  take  from  Clarence's  money  the  price  of  the  cattle 
delivered.  But  having  delivered  no  cattle,  I  take  no  money." 

"Everett  was  saying  that  Clarence  distinctly  stated  to  his 
father  that  the  cattle  in  the  Alamar  rancho  with  your  brand 
were  all  his,  and  would  be  driven  as  soon  as  the  weather  per 
mitted.  Mr.  Darrell  thinks  that  the  cattle  lost  belonged  to 
Clarence,  and  not  to  you." 

"Mr.  Darrell  is  wrong,  then.  I  cannot  expect  to  be  paid 
for  cattle  I  did  not  deliver." 

"But  he  says  you  had  sold  them  already.  If  they  were  lost 
on  the  way  it  was  neither  your  fault  nor  your  loss." 

' 'No,  but  was  my  misfortune,  not  Clarence's." 

"The  cattle  were  going  to  Clarence's  mines,  which  goes  to 
prove  that  they  had  been  bought  by  him." 

"  I  cannot  view  the  matter  like  that,"  Don  Mariano  said, 
and  Victoriano  saw  his  mind  was  settled  upon  the  subject,  and 
it  was  best  not  to  annoy  him  by  insisting  in  opposition. 

When  they  arrived  home  they  found  that  Dona  Josefa  had 
received  a  telegram  from  Gabriel,  sent  the  night  before,  say 
ing  that  he,  Lizzie  and  the  baby  would  spend  Christmas  and 
New  Year's  Day  at  the  rancho.  This  was  glad  news,  indeed, 
and  most  unexpected,  for  inasmuch  as  Lizzie  had  just  been 


360  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

down  on  a  visit  and  hurried  back,  so  that  Gabriel  would  not  be 
all  alone  on  Christmas,  they  did  not  think  that  Lizzie  would 
want  to  take  the  trip  so  soon  again.  But  Lizzie  would  travel 
many  more  miles  to  be  with  her  family.  And  the  reason  that 
Gabriel  had  for  coming  was,  moreover,  a  most  powerful  one. 

He  had  one  day  casually  met  the  doctor  who  attended  his 
father,  and  after  inquiring  whether  Don  Mariano  was  better, 
added : 

"I  tell  you  frankly,  Don  Gabriel,  your  father  may  yet  live 
many  years,  but  he  is  in  danger,  too,  of  dying  very  sud 
denly." 

"How ?     Why  so  ? "  Gabriel  asked,  pale  with  alarm. 

"Because  his  heart  may  give  out  if  his  lungs  don't  work 
well,  and  as  he  is  not  very  careful  oHiimsclf,  you  see  he  might 
task  his  heart  with  heavier  work  than  it  can  perform.  If  he 
is  kept  from  excitement  and  gets  rid  of  all  that  phlegm 
which  has  accumulated  in  his  lungs,  he  will  be  well  enough. 
So  write  to  him  to  be  careful  in  avoiding  colds,"  said  the 
doctor. 

"I  will  go  and  tell  him  so  myself,"  Gabriel  said. 
-    "That  is  right.     The  case  is  serious,  I  assure  you." 

This  short  dialogue  brought  Gabriel  home. 

From  the  time  he  had  entered  the  bank  he  had  never  been 
absent  from  it  one  minute  during  office  hours,  so  a  three  weeks' 
vacation  was  readily  granted  to  him. 

All  the  Mechlins  would  come  to  Alamar  to  pass  the  holi 
days.  George  told  his  father  that  they  might  as  well  go  back 
to  their  home  again  since  his  lameness  did  not  require  daily 
medical  attendance. 

Mr.  Mechlin  replied  that  they  would  decide  upon  that 
after  New  Years,  but  he  was  evidently  pleased  at  the  prospect 
of  returning  to  Alamar. 

The  Alamar  house  looked  once  more  as  it  had  in  the  days 
of  old,  before  squatters  invaded  the  place;  it  was  full  of  people, 
and  music  and  laughter  resounded  under  the  hospitable  roof. 
Mercedes,  however,  sat  silent,  and  though  she  smiled  her  own 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  361 

sweet  smile,  it  was  too  sad;  it  failed  to  deepen  the  cunning 
little  dimples  as  it  did  in  other  days.  The  Don  and  Mr. 
Mechlin,  too,  were  not  as  cheerful  as  they  used  to  be.  In  that 
visit  to  San  Francisco  "a  change  came  over  the  spirit  of  their 
dream"  and  it  seemed  to  have  come  to  quench  the  light  of 
their  lives. 

But  the  young  people  wanted  to  decorate  the  house  with 
green  boughs  and  have  a  huge  Christmas-tree,  and  the  Don 
himself  went  to  help  them  to  get  pine  branches  and  red 
"fusique"  berries.  The  tree  would  be  in  honor  of  his  two 
grandchildren;  they  were  now  eighteen  months  old,  and  the 
proud  mammas  said  they  were  so  intelligent  that  they  would 
surely  appreciate  the  tree. 

Everett,  Alice,  Rosario  and  Victoriano  were  the  committee 
on  decorations;  Carlota,  Caroline,  Lucy  and  Webster  were  the 
committee  on  refreshments.  While  the  laughter  of  the  young 
people  came  ringing  out  through  the  parlor  windows,  Don 
Mariano  and  Mr.  Mechlin  slowly  walked  up  and  down  the 
back  veranda  in  earnest  conversation. 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Mechlin  said,  as  if  to  reiterate  some  previous 
assertion,  "yes,  I  have  lived  my  allotted  term;  my  life  is  now 
an  incumbrance — nay,  it  is  a  burden  on  those  who  love  me. 
If  I  were  not  living,  George  could  take  his  wife,  his  mother 
and  sister,  to  reside  in  New  York,  but  because  I  cannot  live  in 
that  climate,  all  those  dear  ones  remain  in  this  exile." 

"But  why  should  you  call  it  exile?  They  don't  think  it  is; 
and  even  if  it  were,  my  friend,  you  have  no  right  to  cut  your 
life  off  at  your  will,"  said  Don  Mariano. 

"Why  not?  Life  is  a  free  gift,  and  often  a  very  onerous 
one.  Why  keep  it,  when  to  reject  it  would  be  preferable  ? 
when  it  would  release  others  from  painful  obligations  ?  " 

"But  are  you  sure  that  the  grief  and  horror  of  knowing  that 
you  took  your  own  life  would  not  be  a  million  times  worse 
than  the  supposed  exile  you  imagine  to  be  so  objectionable?  " 

"Perhaps  so;  but  I  assure  you,  since  I  have  lost  all  my 
money,  and  when  I  am  too  old  to  make  another  fortune,  my 


362  THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON. 

health  has  begun  to  fail  again.  I  hate  life  without  health,  and 
these  constant  annoyances  of  financial  difficulties  will  end  by 
prostrating  me  on  a  sick-bed  again.  Now,  when  I  have  lost 
nearly  all  the  money  I  invested  in  San  Diego,  now  they  come 
down  on  me  to  pay  a  note  of  ten  thousand  dollars  which  I  en 
dorsed,  with  five  others.  Why  don't  the  others  pay  their  share? 
I  am  willing  to  pay  two  thousand  dollars,  but  not  the  entire 
sum." 

"I  don't  see  why  you  should,  either.  What  does  your  law 
yer  say  ? 

"  He  shrugs  his  shoulders,  caresses  his  side-whiskers,  and 
says  he  thinks  that  some  of  the  other  indorsers  are  insolvent, 
because  their  property  has  depreciated  so  much  that  it  would 
bring  nothing  if  sold;  while  those  that  have  some  means,  no 
doubt,  put  everything  out  of  their  hands,  so  I  am  left  alone  to 
pay  the  entire  sum." 

The  sad  dialogue  of  the  grandpapas  was  now  interrupted,  as 
they  were  called  to  witness  the  glee  of  the  babies  at  the  sight 
of  the  illuminated  Christmas-tree.  When  the  surprise  of  first 
sight  was  over,  little  Mariano  Mechlin  stretched  out  both  hands 
for  the  colored  candles.  His  uncle  Tano  gave  him  a  tin  trum 
pet,  teaching  him  how  to  blow  it;  whereupon  baby  Mechlin 
gave  the  company  a  blast,  and  looked  so  surprised  at  his  own 
performance,  and  gazed  around  so  triumphantly  and  yet  so 
perplexed,  that  he  made  everybody  laugh.  Josefita  looked  at 
her  cousin  distrustfully  and  gave  her  arms  to  her  papa,  as  if 
she  thought  Marianito  was  entirely  too  martial  for  the  vicinity 
of  peaceful  babies  like  herself.  Gabriel  took  her  near  the  tree 
to  select  any  toy  she  liked.  She  fancied  a  string  of  bright 
balls,  which  her  father  gave  her.  The  babies  were  allowed  to 
be  in  the  parlor  for  nearly  an  hour,  and  they  were  so  bright, 
trying  to  repeat  what  was  taught  them,  that  it  was  really  amus 
ing  to  watch  them.  Marianito  sang  for  the  company;  all  were 
surprised  to  hear  so  young  a  baby  sing  so  well.  None  enjoyed 
more  heartily  their  cunning  ways  than  the  two  grandfathers, 
especially  Don  Mariano,  and  both  babies  clung  to  him  when 
the  nurses  came  to  take  them  to  bed. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  363 

When  the  babies  had  made  their  exit,  the  children  ot  larger 
growth  had  their  music  and  dancing  until  ten,  supper  being 
then  announced.  On  returning  to  the  parlor,  after  supper,  the 
clock  upon  the  mantel  struck  twelve;  at  the  same  time  a  cur 
tain  ran  up,  and  an  altar  was  disclosed  to  view,  tastefully  dec 
orated  in  the  Roman  Catholic  style,  having  statues  of  the 
Virgin  Mary,  the  divine  infant,  enveloped  in  fleecy  drapery, 
and  St.  Joseph  standing  by  his  side.  Behind  the  cradle  were 
three  magi,  and  further  off,  the  hills  of  Judea  were  seen.  As 
all  the  company  were  Roman  Catholics,  all  entered  into  the 
spirit  of  the  commemoration,  and  joined  with  true  feeling  in 
the  carol  led  by  Mrs.  Darrell  and  Alice.  Other  sacred  songs 
were  sung,  and  then  all  retired  for  the  night;  the  Darrells 
promising  to  come  on  the  following  evening  to  have  another 
dance,  because — said  Victoriano — it  must  be  celebrated  that 
they  had  heard  from  Clarence,  and  that  he  had  found  his  legs, 
meaning  that  he  (Tano)  had  again  the  use  of  his  limbs. 

Christmas  Day  was  passed  very  happily,  and  in  the  evening 
the  young  people  assembled  in  the  parlor  for  a  dance.  Don 
Mariano  excused  himself  to  Mr.  Mechlin,  saying  he  felt  badly, 
and  thought  that  he  ought  to  be  in  bed. 

At  about  eleven  o'clock  he  sat  up  in  bed  and  looked  around 
as  if  wishing  to  speak.  Gabriel  and  Mercedes  were  sitting  by 
his  bed,  and  promptly  asked  if  he  wished  for  anything. 

"The  sins  of  our  legislators  have  brought  us  to  this,"  he 
exclaimed,  leaning  back.  Presently  he  said:  "Call  your 
mother,  my  son." 

Gabriel  called  his  mother,  who  being  in  the  next  room,  talk 
ing  with  Mrs.  Mechlin,  was  quickly  by  his  side. 

"Call  Elvira  and  Tano.  Call  Carlota  and  Rosario  and 
George.  Call  all,  all,  quickly !  I  fear,  my  beloved  son,  I  fear 
I  am  dying!  Bring  all  my  girls;  I  must  bless  them  all!" 

Mercedes  had  her  arms  around  him.  He  looked  at  her  lov 
ingly. 

"  My  baby,  kiss  me.  Tell  Clarence  I  bless  him  with  my  last 
breath."  His  voice  began  to  fail  him,  but  his  eyes  seemed 


364  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

glowing  with  an  intensity  that  was  startling.  He  sat  up  again, 
looking  at  each  one  of  the  anxious  faces  around  his  bed.  "God 
bless  you  all,  my  beloved  ones,"  said  he,  hoarsely. 

"  Papa,  darling,  can't  we  do  something  to  relieve  you?"  asked 
Mercedes.  He  shook  his  head  and  whispered  : 

"  Too  late.     The  sins  of  our  legislators !  " 

"  Do  you  feel  pain,  father  ?  "  Gabriel  asked. 

"  Not  now,"  he  whispered,  extending  his  hand  to  George  as  if 
to  say  good-by.  He  looked  again  to  see  whether  every  one  of 
his  family  was  there;  he  forgot  no  one;  he  seemed  anxious  to 
see  them  all  for  the  last  time.  He  extended  his  arms  to  his  wife; 
she  came  to  him,  "Fray  for  me,"  he  whispered,  moving  his 
lips  as  if  in  prayer,  and  leaning  on  Gabriel,  who  held  him,  closed 
his  eyes  and  sighed.  A  few  aspirations  followed  that  last  sigh, 
and  all  was  over — his  noble  soul  had  passed  away. 

For  some  moments  no  one  believed  that  his  lofty  and  noble 
spirit  had  left  the  earth,  but  when  the  truth  was  at  last  realized, 
the  scene  of  grief,  of  heart-rending  agony,  that  followed  would 
be  impossible  for  me  to  describe. 

Closely  in  the  sad  train  of  this  mournful  event,  and  as  a  fitting 
sequel  and  a  complement  of  such  dire  misfortune,  another  dis 
aster,  more  unexpected,  more  dreadful  and  tragic,  followed, 
which  must  now  be  related.  It  shall  be  told  as  briefly  as  pos 
sible. 

A  few  days  had  passed  after  the  funeral,  and  the  Alamar  fam 
ily  were  still  in  town.  Dona  Josefa  and  Mercedes  were  at  the 
Mechlins.  Victoriano,  Carlota  and  Rosario  were  at  the  Hoi- 
mans;  that  is,  they  slept  there,  but  as  Mercedes  was  again  pros 
trated  with  fever,  they,  as  well  as  the  Holmans,  divided  their 
time  between  the  two  houses. 

One  morning  Mr.  Mechlin  arose  from  the  breakfast  table  and 
said  he  was  going  hunting. 

"  Don't  go  far,  James;  you  are  too  weak,"  said  Mrs.  Mechlin. 
"  I  think,  papa,  you  ought  not  to  carry  that  heavy  gun.    You 
eat  nothing,  and  walk  too  far,  carrying  it,"  Caroline  said. 
"  Will  you  carry  it  for  me  ?  "  he  said,  smiling. 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  365 

"I  will,"  Gabriel  said;  "I'll  take -George's,  too,  and  go  with 
you,  if  you'll  permit  me." 

"  It  isn't  necessary,"  he  replied,  going  towards  his  room. 

"  I  think  papa  has  taken  to  heart  the  death  of  Don  Mariano 
more  than  any  one  sees,"  said  Caroline. 

"  I  know  he  has;  he  has  hardly  slept  or  eaten  enough  to  sus 
tain  life  since  that  awful  night,"  Mrs.  Mechlin  said,  "and  con 
stantly  talks  about  soon  joining  his  best  friend." 

"  I  have  observed  how  very  sad  he  is.  I  wrote  uncle  to  come; 
I  think  to  see  his  brother  will  be  great  consolation  to  him,"  said 
George. 

The  report  of  a  gun  was  heard  in  Mr.  Mechlin's  room,  and 
all  jumped  to  their  feet.  Gabriel  was  the  first  to  run  and  got 
to  the  room  in  advance  of  the  others.  He  found  Mr.  Mechlin 
shot  through  the  heart. 

"Oh,  God!  Was  it  accidental?"  Mrs.  Mechlin  exclaimed, 
clasping  her  husband  to  heart.  The  dying  man  smiled,  whis 
pering: 

"Do  not  mourn  for  me;  it  is  best  so;  I  shall  be  happier." 
He  looked  lovingly  at  the  anxious  faces  surrounding  him,  and 
closed  his  eyes  forever. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE  FASHION  OF  JUSTICE  IN  SAN  DIEGO. 

If  those  kind  eyes  of  the  Goddess  of  Justice  were  not  ban 
daged,  but  she  could  see  how  her  pure  white  robes  have  been 
begrimed  and  soiled  in  San  Diego,  and  how  her  lofty  dignity 
is  thus  lowered  to  the  dust,  she  would  no  doubt  feel  affronted 
and  aggrieved.  And  if  she  is  so  irreverently  maltreated,  can 
she  afford  any  protection  to  those  who  must  rely  on  her  alone, 
having  no  riches  to  maintain  protracted  litigation  or  carry  their 
plaints  to  higher  tribunals?  To  the  moneyless  laity  Justice 
thus  defiled  seems  as  helpless  as  themselves.  She  is  powerless 
to  accomplish  her  mission  upon  earth  whenever  a  Judge, 
through  weakness  or  design,  may  choose  to  disregard  her  dic 
tates.  At  present  the  dignity  of  a  Judge's  personality  is  more 
sacred  than  the  abstract  impersonality  of  justice.  Because  the 
accepted  theory  being  that  Judges  are  always  just  and  incor 
ruptible  (and  generally  the  supposition  is  correct),  there  is  a 
broad  shelter  for  a  Judge  who  may  be  neither  just  nor  impar 
tial.  What  mockery  of  justice  it  is  in  our  fair  land  of  freedom 
to  say  that  a  bad  Judge  can  be  impeached  when  impeachment 
is  so  hedged  with  difficulties  as  to  be  impossible — utterly  in 
effectual  to  protect  the  poor,  victimized  laity!  Who  is  the 
poor  litigant  that  would  dare  arraign  an  unjust  Judge,  well 
sheltered  in  his  judicial  ermine,  and  the  entire  profession  ready 
to  champion  him?  "Libel"  would  be  the  cry  against  any  one 
who  would  dare  hold  the  mirror  for  such  Judge  to  see  himself! 
Ah,  yes,  when  the  real  libel  is  to  distort  the  law  and  degrade 
the  mission  of  justice  on  earth! 

Peter  Roper,  knowing  well  with  what  impunity  he  could 
violate  justice  and  decency,  conceived  the  brilliant  idea  of  taking 
the  Mechlin  house  at  Alamar,  now  that  the  family  were  sojourn 
ing  in  town.  Peter  did  not  like  to  divide  the  spoils,  but  as  accom- 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  367 

plices  were  absolutely  necessary,  there  was  no  alternative  but 
to  take  his  friend  and  client  Gasbang  into  the  plot. 

On  a  Sunday  evening  Peter  proceeded  to  unfold  his  plan 
before  John,  who  had  come  from  his  farm  to  attend  church 
and  was  attired  in  a  white  vest  and  black  coat,  having  just 
come  from  evening  service.  For,  as  I  have  said  before,  John 
Gasbang  was  a  pillar  of  the  church  now,  and  never  failed  in  his 
attendance  every  Sunday.  People  knew  that  in  old  times, 
when  John  was  very  poor,  he  used  to  play  "monte"  with  the 
Indians  and  cheat  them  out  of  their  money.  Many  times  he 
had  been  known  to  spend  almost  the  entire  night  sitting  cross- 
legged  on  a  blanket  with  a  tallow  candle  set  in  a  bottle  to 
light  his  high-toned  game,  surrounded  by  the  select  company 
of  naked  Indians,  who  were  too  fascinated  to  see  how  plainly 
John  was  robbing  them.  Pitilessly  would  John  strip  his  unso- 
phistocated  tattooed  comrades  of  everything  they  owned  on 
this  earth.  Their  reed  baskets,  bows  and  arrows,  strings  of 
beads,  tufts  of  feather-tips,  or  any  other  rustic  and  barbaric  or 
naments.  All,  all,  John  would  gather  up  with  his  skillfully 
shuffled  cards.  The  spoils  he  thus  collected  he  would  sell  to 
other  Indians  from  whom  he  would  presently  gather  in  (like 
the  good  Sexton  he  was),  gather  in,  with  high-toned  and  highly 
skillful  shuffling.  But  John  now  was  a  rich  man.  Kindly  San 
Diego  had  forgiven  John's  petty  thieving.  The  money  won 
from  the  poor  Indians  had  helped  him  to  thrive,  and  conse 
quently  convinced  him  that,  after  all,  cheating  was  no  worse  than 
other  sins,  the  gravity  of  which  entirely  depended  upon  the 
trick  of  hiding  them.  He  would  now  try  to  hide  his  humble, 
predatory  gambling,  he  said  to  himself,  and  seem  respectable. 

Yes,  he  would  wear  a  white  vest  and  try  to  look  honest,  but 
on  hearing  Roper's  project,  his  dull,  fishy  eyes  revolved  quickly 
in  their  little  sockets,  and  his  square  jaws  expanded  like  those 
of  a  snake  before  it  shakes  its  rattle  and  coils  up  to  spring. 
His  mouth  watered  in  anticipation  of  the  sweets  of  ill-gotten 
gain  as  he  listened  attentively  to  all  that  Roper  had  to  say. 


368  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

"I'll  see  Hogsden  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,"  said  he, 
joyously. 

"But  wait.     Can  you  trust  him  ?  " 

"  Trust  him  ?  I  should  say  I  could,  and  if  he  weakens,  there 
is  his  wife  to  brace  him  up  with  her  good  advice.  He  owes  a 
big  sum  of  money  to  old  Mechlin;  so  old  Hoggy  will  be  only 
too  glad  to  get  even  by  jumping  the  house.  I  suppose  our 
friend,  the  Judge,  is  with  us." 

"Don't  be  silly.  Do  you  suppose  I  would  do  a  thing  of  this 
kind  if  I  wasn't  sure  of  him?  He  won't  fail  me.  He'll  do  as 
I  say.  Be  sure  of  that,  and  don't  talk.  Come  to  my  house 
now  and  I'll  draw  up  the  conveyance.  Hog.  must  sign  his  quit 
claim  deed,  and  then  I'll  see  that  his  location  of  one  hundred 
and  sixty  acres  is  properly  filed.  But,  mind,  if  Hogsden  be 
trays  us,  he'll  spoil  our  game,"  observed  Roper. 

"Leave  that  to  me,"  said  John,  rubbing  his  hands  and  giving 
his  vest  a  downward  pull. 

The  result  of  this  dialogue  was  that  Hogsden  quit-claimed 
all  his,  "right,  title  and  interest  in  a  certain  parcel  of  land,  etc., 
etc.,  with  a  dwelling  house  and  other  improvements,  etc,  etc.," 
and  the  description  of  the  property  might  have  applied  to 
a  hundred  others  in  the  county.  This  transaction  accom 
plished  and  recorded,  they  took  the  furniture  that  had  been  left 
in  the  house  by  the  Mechlins  and  put  it  temporarily  in  the  barn; 
Mrs.  Hogsden  taking  only  such  articles  as  she  wished  to  keep. 
She  stole  them  brazenly,  saying  she  had  bought  them. 

It  was  further  agreed  that  they  would  work  the  farm  in  part 
nership,  dividing  profits  equally,  and  a  contract  in  writing  to 
this  effect  was  signed  by  them. 

Roper  now  being  a  property  holder,  besides  being  so  influen 
tial  with  the  Judge,  thought  he  could  soar  to  higher  altitudes. 
By  the  assistance  of  Gasbang  and  a  few  others,  whom  he  said 
belonged  to  his  gang,  he  managed  to  get  himself  nominated  for 
Representative  to  Congress.  Bursting  with  pride,  puny  Peter 
started  on  his  way  to  glory,  to  stump  his  district.  He  would 
begin  at  San  Bernardino  and  carry  the  county  by  storm,  with 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  369 

the  force  of  his  eloquence  and  personal  magnetism,  he  said, 
with  characteristic  modesty. 

He  made  speeches  at  San  Pascual,  and  Poway,  and  San  Ber 
nardo,  and  Bear  Valley,  and  Julian,  but  his  greatest  effort,  the 
achievement  that  would  crown  his  brow  with  laurels,  that  effort 
lie  reserved  for  Los  Angeles.  Quite  a  big  crowd  was  marshaled 
to  hear  him.  He  had  paid  a  good  deal  of  money  in  advertise 
ments  so  as  to  collect  an  audience.  He  succeeded;  a  crowd 
was  there  ready  to  make  up  in  quantity  what  it  lacked  in 
quality. 

Roper  came  forward.  His  face  was  red  as  usual,  but  he 
seemed  sober — he  stood  straight.  He  was  as  loquacious  as 
ever,  of  course,  and  talked  incessantly  for  quite  a  while,  making 
the  crowd  laugh.  After  he  had  all  his  audience  in  a  laughing 
mood  with  his  coarse  anecdotes  and  broad  jokes,  he  thought  he 
would  capture  their  votes  beyond  a  doubt  if  he  then  and  there 
proved  himself — by  his  own  admissions — to  be  low,  the  lowest 
of  the  lowly — so  very  low,  so  very  disreputable,  that  no  one 
could  be  lower. 

"You  cannot  doubt,"  said  Peter,  "that  my  sympathies  as  well 
as  my  interests,  are  with  you,  the  working  people,  the  poor  who 
must  work  or  starve.  I  have  nothing  in  common  with  bloated 
bondholders  or  pampered  monopolists  who  have  enriched  them 
selves  with  the"  earnings  of  the  poor.  I  don't  know  how  I  came 
to  be  a  lawyer.  I  suppose  it  happened  because  I  don't  like  to 
work.  I  would  rather  talk  and  let  others  work.  [Laughter.] 
I  am  a  child  of  the  people,  and  for  the  people — the  poor  peo 
ple  I  mean.  My  mother  was  a  cook,  a  poor  cook — poor  in 
pocket  I  mean.  Her  cookery  may  have  been  rich  [laughter], 
but  upon  that  point  I  couldn't  enlighten  you,  for  I  have  forgot 
ten  the  flavor  of  her  dishes.  But  she  was  a  cook  by  profession, 
just  as  I  am  a  lawyer  by  profession,  and  one  is  as  good  as  the 
other.  [Laughter.]  As  for  my  father,  of  him  I  know  nothing 
to  speak  of — literally — [laughter],  so  the  less  said  on  that  head, 
the  sooner  mended;  for  if  the  fact  of  my  being  here  goes  to  prove 
to  you  that  I  had  a  father,  that  is  all  the  proof  /ever  had  myself." 


370  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

Here  Peter  laughed,  but  he  laughed  alone.  He  thought  that 
a  burst  of  laughter  and  applause  would  follow  this  last  shame 
less,  revolting  admission,  but  not  a  sound  was  heard.  He  had 
overstepped  the  bounds  of  decency  so  far,  that  even  such  a 
crowd  as  made  his  audience  was  silent  as  if  unanimous  disgust 
was  beyond  utterance.  Roper  was  evidently  disconcerted. 

"We  don't  want  to  be  represented  in  Washington  by  a  fellow 
who  exults  in  degradation  and  has  no  respect  for  the  memory 
of  his  mother,"  said  a  loud  voice,  and  the  crowd  began  to  dis 
perse. 

Soon  Peter's  native  impudence  came  to  his  aid  and  he  tried 
to  recommence  his  discourse.  "Look  here,"  he  cried,  "where  are 
you  going?  You  ain't  going  to  send  my  mother  to  Congress! 
Did  you  think  I  came  to  ask  you  to  vote  for  her?"  He  went  on 
in  this  coarse,  bantering  style  which  had  taken  so  well  at  first, 
but  in  vain.  Nobody  wanted  to  hear  him  now.  It  seemed  as 
if  the  ghost  of  the  poor  reviled  cook  had  come,  like  that  of 
Banquo,  to  frighten  off  the  audience.  In  a  few  minutes  only 
about  half  a  dozen  of  his  supporters  had  been  left,  and  they  re 
mained  to  scold. 

"Well,"  said  one,  looking  back  at  the  receding  crowd,  "that 
cake  is  all  dough,  Peter.  I  hope  your  mother  would  have 
made  a  better  job  of  it." 

"A  delightful  dough,"  said  another;  "and  his  goose  is  well 
cooked.  I  say,  Peter,  you  cooked  your  goose  brown,  browner 
than  your  mother  ever  cooked  hers,  and  I  bet  on  it." 

Peter  answered  with  an  oath. 

"The  worst  of  it  is,  that  in  cooking  your  goose,  you  burnt 
ours  to  a  cinder.  We  haven't  the  ghost  of  a  chance  now,  and 
the  Republican  candidate  will  have  a  walk-over  to  Congress," 
said  a  third  supporter. 

Alas  for  human  delusions!  This  fiasco  was  the  crowning 
glory  of  Roper's  political  campaign.  Like  the  celebrated  am 
bitious  toad  which  cracked  its  sides  by  the  force  of  its  own  in 
flation,  Peter  came  to  grief,  ignominious  grief;  that  is  to  say,  it 
would  have  been  ignominious  to  any  one  not  thoroughly  inocu- 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  371 

lated  with  disgrace  as  lie,  according  to  his  own  version,  must 
have  been  from  the  day  of  his  birth. 

"Let  me  ask  you  a  question,  Roper,"  said  a  fourth  friend. 
"Why  did  you  bring  out  such  a  thing  against  your  mother?  It 
was  your  misfortune  as  long  as  you  kept  quiet  about  it,  but 
now  it  is  your  shame.  What  was  the  good  of  telling  against 
your  own  mother?  Don't  you  know  that  people,  even  the 
humblest,  must  censure  and  despise  you  for  it?  Few,  very  few 
decent  men,  like  to  have  anything  to  do  with  a  man  who 
reviles  his  dead  mother,  no  matter  if  she  was  a  poor  cook. 
What  pleasure  can  you  find  in  proclaiming  your  shame?" 

Roper  laughed  loud  and  derisively,  saying: 

"What  will  you  bet  that  I'll  have  just  as  good  and  just  as 
many  friends  in  San  Diego  as  I  ever  had  before?" 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  the  people  of  San  Diego  approve 
of  language  such  as  you  used  to-night?  Approve  your  con 
duct?" 

"Never  mind  about  that,  only  will  you  take  my  bet?" 

The  henchman  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  walked  off,  but  if 
he  had  taken  that  bet,  he  would  have  lost. 

When  Colonel  Hornblower  received  the  news  of  Roper's 
fiasco,  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  take  a  trip  to  Europe. 
He  had  now  made  money  enough  out  of  the  troubles  and  dis 
tress  he  and  Roper  brought  upon  others,  to  indulge  in  that  lux 
ury,  the  pleasure  of  saying  he  had  been  to  Europe. 

"My  dear,"  said  the  Colonel  to  his  wife,  "I  think  now  is  the 
best  time  to  take  that  trip  to  Europe  we  have  had  in  our  hearts 
for  so  long.  Get  ready;  let  us  go." 

"What  has  happened?"  Mrs.  Colonel  Hornblower  asked. 

"Nothing,  except  that  that  partner  of  mine  made  a  fiasco  of 
his  political  campaign,"  and  the  Colonel  related  to  his  swarthy 
lady  Roper's  speech,  and  how  it  was  received. 

"How  absurd!  so  unnecessary!"  she  exclaimed. 

"Perfectly,  but  you  see,  for  a  man  of  my  dignity  the  thing  is 
awkward.  What  will  the  town  say  of  me,  ME?" 

"The  town  will  say  nothing.     As  long   as   Roper  has  the 


372  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

friendship  of  Judge  Lawlack  he  can  have  clients;  and  as  long 
as  he  has  clients  the  San  Diego  people  will  be  indulgent  to 
him,  no  matter  how  debased  he  says  he  is.  However,  drop 
him,  and  let's  go  to  Europe.  I  wish  we  could  get  letters  to 
distinguished  people  abroad." 

"  What  for?  Our  American  ministers  can  present  us  to  the 
best  society,  and  besides,  I  am  sure  I  am  well  known  abroad. 
My  name — the  name  of  Colonel  Hornblower — must  be  as 
familiar  to  Europeans  as  the  names  of  other  distinguished 
Americans.  I  am  the  most  prominent  man  in  San  Diego.  All 
the  world  knows  San  Diego,  all  the  world  must  know  Colonel 
Hornblower." 

"  Still,  I  would  like  to  get  letters." 

"Not  at  all  necessary,  I  assure  you.  I'll  tell  our  minister 
in  England  that  Mrs.  Colonel  Hornblower  wishes  to  be  pre 
sented  to  Queen  Victoria,  and  he'll  present  you.  The  Queen, 
no  doubt,  will  wish  to  make  our  acquaintance." 

"  I  would  like  to  see  other  royal  people.  I  would  like  to  see 
the  Pope,  also." 

"  You  shall  see  as  many  princes  and  princesses  as  you  like. 
We  Americans  are  princes,  all  of  us.  We  are  the  equals  of 
princes.  As  for  the  Pope,  I  would  not  take  one  step  to  make 
his  acquaintance,  unless  he  met  me  half  way;  but  if  you  like 
to  see  him,  we'll  get  an  introduction  easily.  Perhaps  he  might 
invite  us  to  dinner.  If  he  does,  I  hope  it  won't  be  on  Friday, 
as  fish  don't  agree  with  me." 

"  Does  he  ever  invite  people  to  dinner?" 

"  Distinguished  people,  of  course." 

The  Hornblowers  sailed  for  Europe  before  Roper  returned 
from  his  stumping  tour.  He  was  detained  at  Los  Angeles, 
where  he  had  been  beaten  so  badly  in  a  bar-room  brawl  that 
he  was  obliged  to  keep  in  bed  for  several  days.  The  Colonel 
then  wisely  slipped  off  for  Europe,  to  hob-nob  with  royal 
people  and  take  dinner  with  the  Pope,  perhaps. 

Mrs.  Hornblower  conjectured  rightly.  Roper's  disgrace  was 
condoned  by  San  Diego,  because  he  was  under  the  patronage  of 
Judge  Lawlack,  and  in  San  Diego  everybody  has  a  law  suit. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  373 

But  has  the  Judge  no  moral  responsibility  in  this  ?  Has  he 
the  right  to  impose  upon  the  community  a  man  so  self-debased 
and  noxious?  If  the  Judge  were  to  withdraw  his  support  Peter 
would  collapse  like  a  pricked  gas-bag,  to  be  swept  off  into  the 
gutter.  But  the  Judge  is  the  genii,  "the  Slave  of  the  AV//^r,"and 
his  power  keeps  the  little  gas-bag  afloat,  soaring  as  high  as  it  is 
in  the  nature  of  little  gas-bags  to  soar.  The  Judge  keeping  in 
his  hand  the  check-string,  kindly  preventing  him  from  going  to 
destruction. 

With  characteristic  coarseness,  amounting  to  inhumanity, 
Peter  Roper  and  Gasbang  decided  to  throw  down  their  masks, 
and  reveal  their  fraud  in  "jumping"  Mr.  Mechlin's  house. 
They  came  to  this  decision  about  ten  days  after  Mr.  Mechlin's 
death. 

Gabriel  had  returned  that  same  day  from  San  Francisco, 
where  he  had  accompanied  the  remains  .of  his  father-in-law, 
and  deposited  them  in  a  vault  to  await  until  Mrs.  Mechlin 
should  be  able  to  travel,  when  she,  with  all  the  family,  would 
go  East. 

Mr.  Lawrence  Mechlin  had  also  arrived.  He  started  from 
New  York  on  the  day  of  his  brother's  death,  two  hours  after 
receiving  George's  telegram  conveying  the  terrible  news.  He 
reached  San  Francisco  on  the  night  before  the  steamer  for  San 
Diego  sailed.  Thus  he  and  George  came  together. 

The  Deputy  Sheriff  presented  himself  to  announce  to  Mrs. 
Mechlin  that  her  furniture  left  at  her  country  house  had  been 
taken  out  by  order  of  Peter  Roper,  and  put  on  the  road 
about  two  miles  from  the  house.  As  Mrs.  Mechlin  was  too 
ill  to  see  any  one,  excepting  the  members  of  her  family,  the 
Sheriff  made  his  statement  to  George,  in  the  presence  of  his 
uncle  and  Gabriel,  just  arrived. 

The  proceedings  seemed  so  atrocious  that  at  first  no  one 
could  understand  the  Sheriff. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  Peter  Roper  claims  to  own  our 
house,  and  because  he  is  the  owner,  has  taken  out  the  furni 
ture  and  left  it  lying  on  the  road?"  asked  George. 


374  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"Yes;  that's  what  I  was  told  to  say,"  the  Sheriff  replied. 

"But  why?     How  is  he  the  owner  of  our  house?" 

"Because  he  and  Gasbang  bought  it  from  Hogsden,  who  lo 
cated  a  claim  there  after  you  abandoned  the  place." 

The  trick  was  infamous.  George  and  Gabriel  saw  through  it. 
There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  bring  a  suit  in  ejectment  to  get 
rid  of  them,  but  in  the  meantime  they  would  hold  possession 
(perhaps  for  years),  and  that  was  what  they  wanted,  to  get  the 
property  into  litigation. 

Gabriel  went  to  state  the  matter  to  the  lawyer  who  had 
attended  to  Mr.  Mechlin's  law  business,  and  he  corroborated 
their  opinion,  that  there  was  no  other  course  to  pursue  but  to 
file  a  complaint  in  ejectment  to  dispossess  the  thieves. 

"Is  there  no  quicker  way  to  obtain  redress?"  George 
asked. 

"No,  sir,"  the  lawyer  answered;  "as  the  deed  is  done  by 
Peter  Roper  and  John  Gasbang,  the  Judge  will  decide  in  their 
favor,  and  you  will  have  to  appeal." 

"But  this  is  atrocious,"  Mr.  Lawrence  Mechlin  said;  "Do  you 
mean  to  say  that  people's  houses  can  be  taken  like  that  in  this 
country  ?" 

"Not  generally;  but  Peter  Roper  might,  if  there  is  the  ghost 
of  a  pretext,  and  if  there  is  a  dishonest  servant,  like  Hogsden, 
left  in  charge,  who  will  steal  and  help  to  steal ;  then,  you  see, 
the  thing  is  easy  enough,  as  long  as  the  Judge  befriends  tres 
passers.  But  the  Supreme  Court  will  put  things  to  right 
again.  That  is  to  say,  if  the  Judge's  findings  are  not  a 
string  of  falsehoods  which  will  utterly  mislead  the  Supreme 
Court." 

This  property,  Mr.  Mechlin  had  repeatedly  said,  he  in 
tended  should  be  a  homestead  for  his  wife,  so  the  suit  in 
ejectment  was  brought  in  her  name.  She  at  the  same  time 
filing  a  petition  for  a  homestead  before  the  Probate  Court,  and 
asking  that  Gabriel  Alamar  be  appointed  administrator  of  her 
husband's  estate. 

All  this  would,  of  course,  involve  the  property  in  tedious 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  375 

legal  proceedings,  there  being  the  probate  matters,  beside  the 
suit  in  ejectment  to  litigate  in  the  District  Court.  The  attorney 
employed  in  the  case  advised  George  to  have  a  deed  executed 
by  Dona  Josefa,  conveying  the  property  to  Mrs.  Mechlin,  as  it 
had  been  agreed  before  the  death  of  their  husbands  that  it 
should  be  done.  Doha  Josefa  cheerfully  assented,  remember 
ing  that  Don  Mariano  had  said  to  her : 

"  If  I  should  die  before  I  get  my  land  patented,  the  first 
thing  you  must  do  is  to  make  a  conveyance  of  his  place  to  Mr. 
Mechlin." 

The  shock  caused  by  his  father's  death  when  that  of  Don 
Mariano  was  yet  so  recent,  acted  most  injuriously  upon  George's 
health.  It  made  him  feverish,  inflaming  his  wound  again  very 
painfully,  as  the  ball  had  never  been  extracted;  now  it  chafed 
the  wound  and  gave  him  as  much  pain  as  before. 

Mrs.  Mechlin,  Doha  Josefa  and  Mercedes  were  also  in  their 
beds,  suffering  with  nervous  prostration  and  night  fevers.  It 
seemed  impossible  that  people  could  be  more  bereaved  and 
disheartened  than  these  ladies,  and  yet  exist.  Mr.  Lawrence 
Mechlin  saw  that  George  must  have  skillful  medical  attendance 
without  delay,  and  wanted  his  own  doctor  to  take  him  under 
his  care.  So  he  and  Gabriel  arranged  all  business  and  other 
matters  in  order  that  George  should  go  East.  It  was  heart-rend 
ing  to  Elvira — the  mere  thought  of  leaving  her  mother  and  sis 
ter  sick,  and  all  the  family  in  such  distress — but  she  must  go 
with  her  husband.  Gabriel  would  attend  to  the  lawsuits.  He 
had  powers  of  attorney  from  George  and  Mrs.  Mechlin,  and 
was  the  administrator. 

The  answer  to  Mrs.  Mechlin's  complaint  was  a  masterpiece 
of  unblushing  effrontery  that  plainly  showed  it  had  originated 
in  a  brain  where  brazen  falsehoods  and  other  indecencies  thrived 
like  water-reptiles  growing  huge  and  luxuriating  in  slimy  swamps. 
The  characteristic  document  ran  in  the  following  manner: 


37  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

In  the  District  Court  of  the  -     -of  the  County  of  San 
State  of  California. 

BEATRICE  MECHLIN,  Plaintiff, 

v. 

PETER  ROPER,  JOHN  GASBANG,  and 
CHARLES  HOGSDEN,        Defendants. 

And  now  come  the  defendants,  Peter  Roper,  John  Gasbang 
and  Charles  Hogsden,  and  for  answer  to  plaintiff's  complaint, 
on  file  herein,  they  and  each  of  them  say : 

That  they  deny  that  in  the  year  of  1873,  or  at  any  other  time 
before  or  after  that  date,  James  Mechlin  was  owner  of  the  premises 
described  in  this  complaint;  deny  that  the  said  James  Mechlin 
ever  purchased  from  William  Mathews  the  aforesaid  property  or 
any  part  there.of,  or  paid  any  money  or  any  other  valuable  consid 
eration  ;  deny  that  the  said  Mechlin  ever  built  a  house,  or  planted 
trees,  or  resided  on  the  said  property  himself,  with  his  family,  or  by 
agent  or  servant  occupied  said  premises;  deny  that  respondent, 
Charles  Hogsden,  was  ever  put  in  charge  of  the  aforesaid  prem 
ises  or  any  part  thereof,  as  the  agent,  or  servant,  or  tenant  of  the 
said  James  Mechlin;  deny  that  the  said  James  Mechlin  ever  was 
in  the  possession  of  the  said  premises,  but  on  the  contrary,  these 
defendants  allege  that  if  James  Mechlin  had  any  kind  of  pos 
session,  it  was  as  a  naked  trespasser,  and  his  title  to  said  prop 
erty  was  at  all  times  disputed  and  contested  by  other  parties. 

These  defendants  allege  that  defendant  Charles  Hogsden 
was  the  rightful  owner  of  the  said  premises ;  that  defendants 
Peter  Roper  and  John  Gasbang  are  the  innocent  purchasers  of 
the  legal  and  equitable  title,  and  are  now  in  actual  and  lawful 
possession  of  the  said  premises,  having  paid  a  just  and  fair 
price  to  the  rightful  owner,  Charles  Hogsden. 

These  defendants  further  allege,  that  the  plaintiff  Beatrice 
Mechlin  wrongfully,  unlawfully,  fraudulently  and  maliciously, 
and  for  the  purpose  of  cheating  and  defrauding  the  aforesaid 
innocent  purchasers,  Peter  Roper  and  John  Gasbang,  out  of 
their  rights  in  said  property,  entered  into  a  fraudulent  conspir- 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  377 

acy  with  one  Josefa  Alamar  and  one  Gabriel  Alamar,  wherein 
it  was  agreed  by  and  between  them  that  said  Josefa  Alamar,  as 
executrix  of  the  estate  of  Mariano  Alamar,  and  purporting  to 
carry  out  the  wishes  and  instructions  of  her  deceased  husband, 
the  said  Mariano  Alamar,  would  execute  a  deed  of  sale  or  a 
confirmatory  deed  of  said  property. 

And  these  defendants  aver,  that  in  pursuance  of  the  fraudu 
lent  conspiracy  aforesaid,  the  said  Josefa  did  execute  a  fraudu 
lent  deed  of  sale  to  the  said  Beatrice  Mechlin,  for  the  purpose 
of  cheating  and  defrauding  these  innocent  purchasers,"  etc. 

This  string  of  prevarications  ran  on  for  about  twenty  pages 
more,  repeating,  ad  nauseam,  the  same  falsehoods  with  all  legal 
alliteration  and  more  than  legal  license. 

Gabriel  was  left  to  attend  this  suit  and  other  matters,  and 
with  grief,  which  was  too  profound  for  description  and  too 
heart-rending  almost  for  human  endurance,  the  two  loving 
families  separated. 

Elvira  must  leave  her  beloved  mother  in  her  sad  bereave 
ment;  Lizzie  must  see  hers  go  to  perform  the  painful  duty  of 
accompanying  the  remains  of  a  beloved  husband. 

In  sorrow  and  silent  tears  the  Alamar  family  returned  to  their 
country  house  the  day  after  the  Mechlins  left. 

Mrs.  Mechlin's  suit  in  ejectment  against  the  "  innocent  pur 
chasers,"  Peter  and  John,  was,  as  a  matter  of  course,  decided 
in  favor  of  these  innocents  of  Judge  Gryllus  Lawlack.  The 
Judge  knew,  as  well  as  any  one  else,  that  the  allegations  of 
these  men  were  brazen  falsehoods  strung  together  for  the  pur 
pose  of  robbery.  Nevertheless,  his  Honor  Lawlack  made  his 
rulings,  and  set  down  his  findings,  all  to  suit  the  robbers. 
Among  the  findings  that  his  Honor  had  the  hardihood  to  write 
down,  were  these:  That  "James  Mechlin  had  never  possessed 
the  premises  in  question;  had  never  lived  there  in  person  or 
by  proxy,  and  had  never  made  any  improvements,  etc."  Ancl 
these  premeditated  falsehoods  went  to  the  Supreme  Court. 
The  case  was,  of  course,  reversed  and  remanded  for  new  trial, 
but  with  additional  misstatements  it  was  again  decided  by 


378  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

Judge  Lawlack  in  favor  of  his  friends.  Thus,  in  fact,  the  Su 
preme  Court  was  reversed  by  Judge  Gryllus  Lawlack.  The 
case  was  the  second  time  remanded  by  the  Supreme  Court,  but 
in  a  new  trial  it  was  again  decided  in  favor  of  Peter  and  John. 
This  being  the  same  as  "reversing  the  Supreme  Court,"  but 
Lawlack  laughs  at  this,  saying  that  the  Supreme  Court  decides 
according  to  their  opinions,  and  he  (Lawlack)  does  the  same. 

As  for  Peter  Roper,  he  made  no  concealment  of  there  be 
ing  a  private  bargain  between  himself  and  Judge  Gryllus  Law- 
lack.  Peter  to  render  political  or  other  services,  Gryllus  to 
reward  them  with  judicial  ones. 

At  a  political  meeting  a  friend  of  Roper  (a  lawyer  in 
the  pay  of  the  monopoly),  urged  him  to  make  a  speech  in 
favor  of  the  railroad.  Peter  declined,  saying  that  as  Gryllus 
Lawlack  wanted  to  run  again  for  the  Judgeship,  and  knew 
how  anti-monopolist  San  Diego  County  was,  it  would  hurt  the 
Judge  polhically  to  have  him  (Peter  Roper)  speak  for  the  mo 
nopoly,  as  everybody  knew  that  he  (Peter)  was  the  principal 
support  of  the  Judge,  and  exponent  of  his  principles. 

"And,"  concluded  Peter,  "  if  I  speak  for  the  monopoly  the 
Judge  will  grant  a  rehearing  in  a  suit  I  am  opposing,  and  will 
not  decide  my  case  as  I  want.  That  is  understood  between 
us." 

This  is  the  fashion  of  dispensing  justice  in  San  Diego,  just 
as  Peter  bargains  for. 

But  this  order  of  things  (or  rather  disorder)  could  not  have 
been  possible  if  the  Texas  Pacific  Railroad  had  not  been 
strangled,  as  San  Diego  would  not  then  be  the  poor,  crippled 
and  dwarfed  little  city  that  she  now  is.  In  this  unfortunate 
condition  it  is  that  she  submits  to  the  scandalous  debaucheries 
of  judicial  favorites ;  debaucheries  and  violations  of  common 
justice,  social  decorum,  of  individual  rights ;  debaucheries  tol 
erated  because  the  local  power  sanctions  with  his  encourage 
ment  such  proceedings. 

If  San  Diego  had  been  permitted  to  grow,  to  have  a  popu 
lation,  her  administration  of  the  laws  would  have  been  in 


THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE    DON.  379 

other  hands,  and  outrages  like  breaking  into  the  Mechlin 
house  could  not  have  occurred.  The  voters  of  the  county 
would  not  then  have  elected  a  Judge  that  could  reward  such 
vandalism,  by  allowing  the  thieves  to  keep  the  stolen  premises. 
Now,  however,  without  a  railroad,  San  Diego  is  at  the  bottom 
of  a  bag,  the  mouth  of  which  Mr.  Huntington  has  closed  and 
drawn  the  strings  tight. 


CHAPTER  XXXVt. 

CLARENCE  AND  GEORGE  WITH  THE  HOD-CARRIER. 

The  lawsuits  forced  upon  the  Mechlins,  to  resist  the  fraud 
ulent  claims  trumped  up  by  Roper  and  Gasbang,  obliged 
Gabriel  to  delay  returning  to  his  place  at  the  San  Francisco 
bank.  It  was  very  painful  to  leave  his  mother  and  Mercedes 
still  so  sick  and  depressed,  but  they  themselves  urged  him  to 
go,  fearing  that  his  place  would  be  given  to  another,  and  now, 
when  their  pecuniary  circumstances  were  so  embarrassed,  he 
could  ill  afford  to  lose  his  position.  But  he  did,  for  as  the 
bank  could  not  wait  for  him  longer,  they  took  some  one  else 
instead.  He  wished  to  spare  his  family  the  regret  of  knowing 
this,  and  tried  to  get  anything  to  do  to  earn  a  living.  Thus 
he  began  that  agony  endured  by  so  many  young  men  of  good 
families  and  education,  trying  to  find  employment  to  support 
themselves  decently.  Gabriel  found  the  task  most  difficult. 
He  was  dignified  and  diffident,  and  could  not  be  too  pressing. 
He  was  persevering  and  patient  and  willing  to  work,  but  he 
dreaded  to  seem  importunate,  and  never  urged  his  services 
upon  any  one.  But  he  tried  everything,  every  means  he  could 
think  of  or  'Lizzie  suggest  to  him.  At  times  he  would  find 
some  writing  to  do,  either  copying  or  translating  English  or 
Spanish,  but  this  did  not  give  him  permanent  employment, 
and  between  one  job  and  another  Lizzie's  jewelry  had  to  be 
sold  for  their  daily  expenses.  They  gave  up  the  nice  little 
cottage  they  had  had  before,  and  took  two  small  rooms  at  the 
house  of  a  widow  lady  who  kept  a  few  boarders.  Their  living 
was  simple,  indeed;  but  their  landlady  was  kind  and  courteous 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  381 

and  obliging,  and  her  house  clean  and  very  respectable.  Thus 
many  months  went  by. 

George  and  Elvira  and  Caroline  wrote  to  them,  constantly 
telling  them  how  and  where  they  were.  Now  they  were  in 
Germany,  as  Mr.  Mechlin's  physician  advised  George  to  try 
some  German  baths  in  which  he  had  great  faith.  His  faith 
was  justified  in  George's  case,  for  he  began  to  improve  rapidly 
before  he  had  been  taking  the  baths  a  month,  and  he  was  con 
fident  of  regaining  his  health  perfectly.  This  was  cheerful 
news,  and  Lizzie  felt  great  reluctance  in  writing  to  George  how 
unsuccessful  Gabriel  had  been,  thus  perhaps  checking  his  recov 
ery  by  making  him  again  despondent;  for  it  was  a  noted  fact, 
well  recognized  by  the  two  families,  that  misfortunes  made 
them  all  more  or  less  physically  ill. 

The  winter  of  1876  now  set  in,  and  Gabriel  thought  he  must 
make  up  his  mind  to  find  some  manual  labor,  and  by  that 
means  perhaps  get  permanent  occupation;  but  here  other  ob 
stacles,  no  less  insuperable,  confronted  him.  He  had  had  no 
training  to  fit  him  to  be  a  mechanic,  and  what  could  he  do? 
He  did  not  know,  and  yet  his  family  must  be  supported.  He 
had  not  been  able  to  send  to  his  mother  any  money,  as  his 
scant  earnings  were  inadequate  to  support  his  wife  and  babies. 
There  was  now  another  little  girl  to  provide  for— a  little  dar 
ling,  eight  months  old.  Poor  people  are  bound  to  have  chil 
dren. 

About  this  time  he  got  a  letter  from  Victoriano,  telling  him 
how  his  miserable  legs  had  failed  him  again,  giving  out  in  the 
midst  of  his  plowing.  Everett  had  come  to  help  him  plow  up 
a  fifty-acre  piece  of  land  he  had  intended  to  put  in  wheat,  but 
lo!  before  he  had  plowed  two  acres,  his  legs  seemed  to  disap 
pear  from  under  him  as  if  the  very  Old  Nick  had  unscrewed 
his  knees  and  carried  them  off.  Tano  added :  "And  here  I 
am,  a  perfect  gentleman  from  my  knees  up,  but  a  mean 
chicken,  a  ridiculous  turkey,  £  kangaroo,  from  my  knees  down ; 
and  this,  too,  when  we  can  so  ill  afford  to  have  me  lying  in  a 
sick-bed,  perfectly  useless.  If  land  was  not  so  valueless  now, 


382  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

we  might  perhaps  be  able  to  sell  some,  although  the  price 
would  have  to  be  very  low,  on  account  of  the  delay  in  getting 
our  patent  and  its  being  mortgaged;  but  as  all  hopes  in  the 
Texas  Pacific  are  dead,  land  sales  are  dead,  too,  and  we  might 
as  well  all  be  dead,  for  as  we  have  nothing  but  land  to  get  a 
living  from,  and  that  is  dead,  you  can  draw  the  inference. 
However,  don't  worry  about  us ;  for  the  present,  we  are  getting 
along  very  well.  Several  of  the  cattle  lost  in  the  mountains 
have  come  and  keep  coming,  and  Everett  puts  our  "venta" 
brand  on,  and  pays  mamma,  on  Clarence's  account,  cash  down 
for  them.  To-day  he  paid  mamma  three  "hundred  dollars,  and 
he  says  he  heard  that  more  cattle  are  on  the  way  here." 

Gabriel  was  very  glad  that  his  mother  and  sisters  would 
have  this  little  pittance  at  least,  but  he  was  much  alarmed  and 
anxious  about  Victoriano,  and  hastened  to  tell  Lizzie  he 
thought  they  ought  to  go  home. 

"  I  am  truly  sorry  for  poor  Tano.  Really,  my  sweet  hus 
band,  you  must  let  me  write  to  George,  telling  him  our  cir 
cumstances.  He  can  and  will  help  us,  and  we  might  go  back 
to  the  rancho." 

"No;  don't  write  to  him  about  that  yet.  I'll  try  to  get 
money  enough  to  take  us  home.  If  Tano  is  sick,  I  certainly 
should  be  there.  If  he  was  trying  to  plow,  I  think  I  can  do 
that,  too.  Yes,  I  ought  to  have  stayed  at  home  and  worked  in 
our  orchard,  and  we  would  not  have  suffered  the  distress  of 
mind  at  my  repeated  failures.  As  soon  as  I  make  money 
enough  to  pay  the  board  bill  I  owe  and  have  enough  left  to 
pay  our  fare  to  San  Diego,  we'll  go  home.  Don't  write 
to  George  to  help  me,  I  don't  like  that.  I  can  work  and 
help  myself." 

"Forgive  me,  my  darling,"  said  'Lizzie,  blushing  crimson; 
"  I  have  already  written  to  George.  I  told  him  I  was  going 
to  persuade  you  to  go  home.  I  wrote  him  a  month  ago.  I 
expect  his  answer  very  soon."  Seeing  that  Gabriel  also 
blushed,  Lizzie  added  :  "  I  am  sorry  if  I  offended  you." 

"You  have  not  offended  me.     I  blushed  because  I,  too, 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  383 

have  been  keeping  a  secret  from  you,  thinking  you  might  not 
approve  of  it,  or  feel  humiliated." 

"What  is  it,  pray?" 

"I  have  been  trying  to  learn  a  trade." 

"A  trade !     What  trade,  for  gracious  sake?" 

"A  very  respectable  one.    That  of  a  mason." 

"But  can  you  learn  that?    Where?" 

"Anywhere.  I  have  been  taking  some  lessons  and  earning 
my  two  dollars  per  day  besides." 

"Oh,  Gabriel,  why  did  you  do  that?"  said  Lizzie,  her  face 
suffused  with  blushes. 

"  There !  See  how  you  blush  because  I  want  to  learn  an 
honest  trade,  and  yet  see  how  your  people,  the  Americans, 
deride  us,  the  Spanish,  for  being  indolent,  unwilling  to 
work.  For  my  part,  I  am  willing  to  prove  that  I  will 
work  at  anything  that  is  not  absolutely  repulsive,  to  earn  a 
living." 

"But  how  did  you  come  to  select  that  trade?" 

•'Because  to  go  down  town  I  had  to  pass  by  the  houses  of 
the  railroad  millionaires  which  have  been  in  process  of  con 
struction.  There  are  two  Californians  from  Santa  Barbara, 
whom  I  know,  working  there,  and  to  see  them  earning  their 
two  dollars  per  day,  while  I  have  been  losing  months  in  search 
of  more  gentlemanly  work  to  do,  suggested  to  me  the  idea  of 
also  earning  my  two  dollars  a  day  while  the  gentlemanly  occu 
pation  is  being  found.  Then  I  thought,  too,  that  I  might  learn 
to  be  an  architect,  perhaps." 

"That  is  why  you  have  been  reading  those  books  on  archi 
tecture?" 

"Yes,  and  I  think  I  understand  a  good  deal  about  it  already, 
but  I'll  combine  practice  with  theory.  The  thing  now  is,  as 
Tano  is  sick,  I  must  go  home." 

"Yes,  let  us  go.  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  your  being  a  ma 
son.  Give  it  up.  I  think  I'd  rather  see  you  plowing." 

"Yes;  in  my  own  land,  you  mean.  Don't  be  proud.  Let 
me  work  a  little  while  longer  at  my  trade,  and  we'll  go  home/' 


384  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

But  Lizzie  was  not  willing  he  should,  though  she  said  noth 
ing  more  about  it  to  him.  She  wrote  to  Dona  Josefa,  saying 
that  if  she  could  spare  fifty  dollars,  to,  please,  send  that  sum  to 
her  to  enable  them  to  come  home. 

There  would  be  ten  days,  however,  before  she  could  get 
Dona  Josefa's  reply.  This  was  not  so  agreeable,  but  Lizzie 
thought  she  would  get  ready  to  start  as  soon  as  the  money 
came. 

The  cause  of  Victoriano's  second  severe  attack  of  lameness, 
of  which  he  spoke  in  his  letter,  was  again  exposure — exposure 
to  cold  and  dampness.  About  the  same  time  that  Gabriel 
was  trying  to  be  a  mason,  and  working  as  a  common  day  la 
borer  at  two  dollars  per  day,  Victoriano  had  been  pruning 
trees,  fixing  fences,  repairing  irrigating  ditches  and  plowing. 
He  had  only  two  men  to  help  him,  so  he  worked  very  hard, 
in  fact,  entirely  too  hard  for  one  so  unused  to  labor,  Work 
broke  him  down. 

"  Plowing  is  too  hard  work  for  poor  Tano,"  Dona  Josefa  said, 
looking  at  Victoriano  working  in  a  field  near  the  house,  while 
the  sad  tears  ran  down  her  pale  cheeks. 

"  Yes,  mamma,  it  is ;  and  I  begged  him  not  to  try  to  plow 
again,  but  he  insisted  on  doing  so,"  Mercedes  replied. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  Did  he  fall  down  ?"  Dona  Josefa 
exclaimed,  alarmed,  drawing  her  chair  close  to  the  window. 

Mercedes  arose  from  hers,  and  came  to  look  down  the  or 
chard.  Yes,  there  was  Victoriano  sitting  on  the  ground,  and 
Everett  standing  by  him.  Presently  Everett  sat  down  beside 
him,  and  an  Indian  boy,  who  had  also  been  plowing  with  an 
other  team,  came  up,  leading  his  horses  towards  the  house. 

Dona  Josefa  thought  that  they  wanted  to  put  the  boy  at 
some  other  work,  and  that  Tano  was  resting,  so  she  sat  quietly 
waiting  to  see  whether  he  would  walk. 

Mercedes  now  sat  by  her  mother,  also  to  watch  Victoriano. 
She  said: 

"  Mamma,  tell  Tano  not  to  try  plowing,  the  ground  is  very 
damp.  He  will  have  that  lameness  again." 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  385 

"I  have  told  him,  but  he  says  he  must  work  now,  since  we 
are  so  poor,  and  have  only  land  with  a  title  that  no  one 
believes  in,  and  no  one  will  buy.  So  what  is  he  to  do  but 
work?  And  he  has  been  working  very  hard  all  the  fall  and 
winter,  but  I  fear  he  is  getting  that  lameness  again.  He  walks 
lame  already." 

They  now  saw  that  the  Indian  boy  had  run  to  the  house  to 
hitch  his  horses  to  Clarence's  phaeton  and  drive  to  where 
Tano  was  sitting.  Assisted  by  the  Indian,  Everett  put  Victori- 
ano  in  the  phaeton,  and  brought  him  to  the  house. 

It  was  as  his  mother  and  sister  had  feared — Victoriano  was 
again  unable  to  walk.  With  great  difficulty,  assisted  by  Ever 
ett  and  the  servant  boy,  he  reached  his  bed. 

"Don't  write  to  George  or  Gabriel  that  I  am  sick.  Wait 
until  I  get  better,  or  worse,"  said  he. 

Seeing,  however,  that  there  was  no  change  in  his  condition, 
he  wrote  to  Gabriel  himself,  telling  him  of  his  second  attack. 
Willingly  would  Gabriel  have  taken  his  little  family  and  started 
for  home,  but  he  did  not  have  money  enough  to  pay  their  fare, 
and  he  owed  for  their  last  month's  board.  So  there  was  noth 
ing  to  do  but  to  wait  and  work  as  a  day  laborer  yet  fora  while. 
He  knew  what  he  earned  in  a  whole  month  would  scarcely  be 
enough  to  pay  their  board,  and  that  to  go  home  he  must  write 
his  mother  to  send  him  money  for  their  fare.  But  his  pride 
revolted.  He  hated  to  do  this.  He  could  not  bring  his  mind 
to  it.  He  hesitated. 

About  the  time  that  Victoriano  was  taken  sick  and  Gabriel 
was  trying  to  be  a  mason,  George  and  family  arrived  in  Paris 
on  their  return  from  Germany.  They  would  only  spend  a 
week  or  ten  days  in  that  city,  and  then  sail  for  New  York. 

The  day  before  they  were  to  start,  a  card  was  sent  to  Elvira 
from  the  office  of  the  hotel.  Elvira  took  it  very  indifferently 
and  read  the  name,  but  the  words  she  read  seemed  to  be  ca 
balistic,  for  she  started,  turned  red  and  then  pale. 

She  handed  the  card  to  George,  who  read  aloud,  "Clarence 
Darrell." 


386  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"Ask  the  gentleman  to  please  come  up,"  said  George  to  the 
servant,  and  followed  him,  going  to  meet  Clarence. 

The  two  friends  met  and  clasped  each  other  in  a  tight  em 
brace;  to  shake  hands  seemed  to  both  too  cold  a  way  of  greet 
ing,  when  they  felt  so  much  pain  and  joy  that  to  express  their 
sentiments,  words  were  inadequate. 

When  Clarence  came  in,  he  stretched  both  hands  to  Elvira, 
and  she,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  threw  her  arms  around 
his  neck  and  sobbed,  Mrs.  Mechlin  and  Caroline  were  also 
affected  to  tears.  Clarence  brought  back  to  them  vividly  the 
happy  days  at  Alamar,  when  Mr.  Mechlin  and  Don  Mariano 
lived  so  contentedly  in  each  other's  society. 

All  were  so  anxious  to  learn  how  Clarence  came  to  be  in 
Par-is,  and  where  he  had  been  in  all  these  years,  and  Elvira 
showered  so  many  questions  upon  him,  that  George  told  him 
he  must  remain  with  them  and  tell  them  everything. 

The  family  of  Mr.  Lawrence  Mechlin  were  also  in  the  same 
hotel,  on  their  way  to  New  York. 

George  said  to  Clarence:  "Prepare  yourself  to  be  cross- 
questioned  by  aunt,  for  she  has  b.een  very  anxious  about 
you." 

Clarence  replied  he  was  willing  to  be  questioned,  and  began 
his  narrative  by  saying  how  he  came  to  miss  all  the  letters  writ 
ten  to  him.  He  said : 

"When  I  was  delirious  and  at  the  point  of  death  in  a  cabin 
at  the  mines,  all  the  letters  that  came  addressed  to  me  the 
doctor  put  in  a  paper  bag,  and  when  he  left  he  considered  me 
still  too  weak  to  read  letters  that  might  cause  me  excitement, 
so  he  took  the  paper  bag  and  placed  it  behind  a  camp  look 
ing-glass  which  hung  over  a  little  table  beside  my  bed.  I  was 
so  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  I  might  not  be  consid 
ered  fit  to  marry  Miss  Mercedes,  that  when,  upon  asking  if 
any  letters  had  come  for  me,  and  Fred  Haverly,  thinking  that 
I  meant  other  letters  besides  those  handed  to  the  doctor,  an 
swered  in  the  negative.  I  did  not  explain  that  I  had  not  re 
ceived  any  at  all.  I  accepted  patiently  what  I  considered  a 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  387 

natural  result  of  my  father's  conduct,  and  said  nothing.  I 
went  to  Mexico,  and  there  a  fatality  followed  my  letters  again. 
I  missed  them  twice — once  through  the  mistake  of  a  clerk  at 
my  bankers,  the  second  time  by  a  mistake  of  the  Secretary 
of  the  Legation,  who  misunderstood  Hubert's  request  about 
returning  the  letters  to  him.  From  Mexico  I  went  to  South 
America,  crossed  to  Brazil,  and  went  to  England.  From  Eng 
land  I  went  to  the  Mediterranean,  and  since  then  I  have  been 
on  the  go,  like  the  restless  spirit  that  I  was,  believing  myself  a 
miserable  outcast.  It  was  almost  accidentally  that  I  came  to 
Paris.  I  got  a  letter  from  Hubert,  and  in  a  postscript  he  said 
that  he  hoped  I -got  my  letters  at  last,  for  he  had  sent  them 
with  a  remittance  to  my  bankers,  requesting  that  my  letters 
should  be  kept  until  I  called  for  them.  I  was  far  up  the  Nile 
when  I  received  his  letter,  but  next  morning  I  started  for 
Paris  with  a  beating  heart,  I  can  assure  you.  Twenty-six  let 
ters  I  found,  and  I  am  more  grieved  than  I  can  express  to  you 
to  think  that  I  did  not  get  them  before." 

Clarence  arose  and  paced  the  floor  in  great  agitation,  and 
his  friends  were  much  moved  also,  for  they  knew  he  was  think 
ing  that  never  again,  in  this  world,  would  he  see  his  noble 
friend,  Don  Mariano. 

On  the  following  morning  the  Mechlins,  accompanied  by 
Clarence  left  Paris.  Before  leaving,  Clarence  telegraphed  to 
Mercedes : 

"  I  have  just  received  your  letters  written  in  '73.  I  leave  for  New  York 
to-morrow  with  the  Mechlins,  thence  for  California. 

CLARENCE  DARREI.L." 

Everett,  who  had  been  to  town,  religiously,  to  see  whether 
there  might  be  a  letter  from  Clarence,  or  news  about  him, 
brought  Mercedes  the  cablegram. 

Poor  Mercedes,  she  read  the  few  words  many  times  over 
before  she  could  realize  that  they  were  from  Clarence.  When 
she  did  so,  she  was  seized  with  a  violent  trembling,  and  then 
completely  overcome  by  emotion.  Ah !  yes  she  would  see 
him  again,  but  where  was  now  her  darling  papa,  who  was  so 
fond  of  Clarence  ? 


388  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

Mercedes  sent  the  dispatch  for  Mrs.  Darrell  to  see,  and  when 
Everett  brought  it  back,  Carlota  made  a  copy  of  it  to  send  to 
Lizzie  in  a  letter  next  day.  The  Darrells  were  truly  overjoyed, 
thrown  into  a  perfect  storm  of  pleasure.  The  old  man  said 
not  a  word.  He  went  to  his  lonely  room,  locked  the  door, 
and  there,  as  usual  since  he  lived  the  life  of  a  half-divorced 
man,  battled  with  his  spirit.  This  time,  however,  he  allowed 
tears  to  flow  as  he  blessed  his  absent  boy,  and  thanked  God 
that  he  was  coming. 

"  If  I  had  a  decent  pair  of  legs  to  speak  of,"  said  Tano  to 
Everett,  "  I  would  dance  for  sheer  joy,  but  having  no  legs,  I 
can  only  use  my  tongue  and  repeat  how  glad  I  am." 

When  Gabriel  came  home  in  the  evening  of  the  day  in  which 
Lizzie  received  the  copy  of  Clarence's  telegram,  she  said  to 
him : 

"  Darling,  don't  go  to  that  horrid  work  again.  Clarence  is 
coming,  and  now  he  and  George  will  establish  the  bank." 

"Yes,  but  in  the  meantime  I  must  earn  enough  to  pay  our 
board;  remember,  we  owe  one  month's  board  already.  Be 
patient  for  a  few  days  longer."  And  she  was  patient,  but  anx 
ious.  A  few  days  more  passed,  and  she  received  Dona  Josefa's 
letter,  inclosing  seventy  dollars,  and  saying  she  hoped  they 
would  come  immediately,  for  she  wanted  Gabriel  at  home. 

"  Now  we  have  money  enough  to  pay  our  board  bill,  and  as 
George  will  surely  come  to  our  assistance,  why  should  you  go 
to  work  as  a  mason?  Darling,  leave  that  work,"  Lizzie  begged. 

"Let  us  see;  Clarence's  cablegram  was  dated  twenty  days 
ago.  They  must  have  arrived  in  New  York  a  week  ago,  and 
if  he  don't  delay  at  all,  he'll  be  here  in  two  or  three  days," 
Gabriel  said. 

"Then  why  should  you  work  like  that?" 

"  I'll  stop  to-morrow,  but  I  must  give  notice  of  a  day  or  two, 
at  least,  for  the  foreman  to  get  somebody  else  in  my  place." 

When  Gabriel  arrived  at  his  place  of  employment  near  Nob 
Hill,  he  found  that  his  occupation  that  day  would  be  different 
from  \vhat  it  had  been  before,  and  in  the  afternoon  he  was  put 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  389 

to  work  at  another  place  in  the  building.  He  would  have  to 
carry  bricks  and  mortar  up-a  ladder  to  quite  a  high  wall.  He 
told  the  foreman  that  he  would  rather  not  do  that,  as  he  had 
never  done  such  work  and  was  very  awkward  about  it.  The 
foreman  said  he  had  no  one  else  to  spare  for  that  job,  and 
Gabriel  at  last  said  he  would  try.  He  had  carried  many  loads, 
and  was  beginning  to  tremble  with  fatigue,  when  upon  going 
up,  carrying  a  hod  full  of  bricks,  the  ladder  slipped  to  one  side 
a  little.  In  his  effort  to  steady  it,  Gabriel  moved  it  too  much, 
and  it  fell  to  one  side,  taking  him  to  the  ground.  As  he  fell, 
the  bricks  fell  upon  him.  He  was  insensible  for  some  time. 
When  he  regained  consciousness  he  was  being  carried  to  a 
wagon  which  would  take  him  to  the  city  hospital.  Lizzie,  to 
whom  the  foreman  had  sent  a  message  notifying  her  of  the 
accident,  now  met  the  wagon. 

"Where  are  you  taking  my  husband?"  she  asked  the  driver. 

"  To  the  city  hospital,  ma'am." 

"  But  why  not  take  him  home  ?  " 

"Because  he  will  get  attendance  there  quickly,  Madam," 
said  the  foreman,  who  evidently  felt  he  was  to  blame  for  a  very 
painful  accident. 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  let  us  go  to  the  hospital,"  Lizzie  said, 
getting  into  the  wagon.  She  sat  beside  Gabriel,  and  placed 
his  head  in  her  lap.  Gabriel  smiled,  and  his  beautiful  eyes 
were  full  of  love,  but  he  could  scarcely  speak  a  word. 

The  jolting  of  the  wagon  gave  him  much  pain,  and  Lizzie 
asked  the  driver  to  go  very  slow.  "  He  ought  to  be  carried  on 
a  stretcher,  ma'am;  he  is  too  much  hurt  to  go  in  a  wagon," 
said  the  driver. 

They  now  came  to  a  street-crossing,  and  several  wagons 
were  standing  still,  waiting  for  a  line  of  carriages  to  pass  first. 

"Oh,  why  do  we  wait?  He  is  suffering  so  much !"  Lizzie 
exclaimed.  "He  is  bleeding;  he  might  bleed  to  death!" 

"We  are  waiting  for  them  carriages  to  pass,  ma'am.  They 
are  carrying  people  to  a  reception  on  Nob  Hill,  ma'am,"  said 
the  driver. 


390  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  street,  in  a  carriage  which  also  had 
been  stopped  that  the  guests  for  the  Nob  Hill  festivities  might 
pass,  sat  George  and  Clarence,  just  arrived,  and  on  their  way 
to  see  Lizzie  and  Gabriel.  They  saw  that  a  man  lay  in  a 
wagon  which  stood  in  front  of  them,  and  noticing  that  a 
woman  sat  by  his  side  holding  his  head  in  her  lap,  bending 
over  him  anxiously,  Clarence  said  to  the  driver  that  there 
seemed  to  be  some  one  sick  in  that  wagon,  and  that  it  should 
be  allowed  to  pass. 

"Yes,  sir;  but  he  is  a  hod-carrier  who  fell  down  and  hurt 
himself.  I  suppose  he'll  die  before  he  gets  to  the  hospital," 
said  the  driver,  indifferently,  as  if  a  hod-carrier  more  or  less 
was  of  no  consequence.  "The  carriages  must  pass  first,  the 
police  says." 

As  Lizzie  raised  her  head  to  ask  the  driver  to  take  some 
other  street,  they  saw  her.  Both  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
surprise,  and  left  their  carriages  immediately,  walking  hurriedly 
to  the  wagon  where  she  was. 

"Lizzie,  my  sister,  why  are  you  here?"  George  asked. 

"Oh,  George!  Gabriel  fell  down!"  she  replied,  sobbing,  her 
courage  failing  now  that  she  had  some  dear  ones  to  protect 
her.  "Oh,  Clarence,  see  how  you  find  my  darling!  We  are 
taking  him  to  the  city  hospital,  but  because  those  carriages 
must  pass  first  my  darling  may  die  here — bleeding  to  death !" 

"Let  me  go  for  a  physician  immediately,"  said  Clarence. 

"Wait,"  George  said,  "Which  is  the  nearest  from  here,  Liz 
zie,  your  house  or  the  hospital?  We  must  take  him  to  the 
nearest  place." 

"The  hospital  is  nearer,  sir,"  the  driver  answered. 

"Then  let  us  go  the  hospital'"  George  said,  getting  into 
the  wagon  beside  his  sister,  shocked  to  find  Gabriel  in  a 
situation  which  plainly  revealed  a  poverty  he  had  never 
imagined. 

"I  shall  go  for  a  surgeon,  there  might  not  be  one  at  the 
hospital,"  said  Clarence.  "I  shall  be  there  when  you  ar 
rive." 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  391 

The  wagon  went  so  slowly  that  Clarence,  with  a  doctor, 
overtook  them  before  they  reached  the  hospital.  Meantime, 
Gabriel  had  whispered  to  Lizzie  and  George,  in  a  few  words, 
how  he  had  fallen  down. 

On  arriving  at  the  hospital  he  was  carried  to  the  best  room, 
with  best  attendance,  two  rooms  adjoining  were  for  his  nurses, 
one  to  be  occupied  by  Lizzie  and  the  other  by  George  and 
Clarence,  for  neither  of  them  would  leave  Gabriel  now. 

The  doctor  would  give  no  opinion  as  to  his  recovery.  If 
he  had  internal  injuries  of  a  serious  character,  -they  might 
prove  fatal,  but  of  this  it  was  impossible  to  judge  at  present. 
About  eight  o'clock  Gabriel  seemed  to  be  resting  a  little  more 
comfortably,  and  "Lizzie  took  that  opportunity  to  go  to  see  her 
babies.  She  found  them  already  asleep.  The  kind  landlady 
had  given  them  their  supper  and  put  them  to  bed.  She  told 
Lizzie  of  a  good  nurse  who  could  be  hired  to  take  care  of  the 
baby,  and  that  she  would  engage  her  to  come  the  next  morn 
ing.  Lizzie  thanked  her,  and  then  returned  to  her  husband's 
bedside,  and  there,  accompanied  by  George  and  Clarence,  she 
passed  the  night. 

About  daylight,  with  great  reluctance,  she  was  prevailed 
upon  to  lie  down  on  a  lounge  at  the  foot  of  Gabriel's  bed, 
and  as  the  patient  seemed  to  be  resting  quietly,  George  and 
Clarence  went  into  the  next  room  to  partake  of  a  light 
collation. 

George  poured  a  glass  of  wine  for  Clarence  and  another 
for  himself,  and  both  drank  in  silence.  Evidently  they  could 
not  eat. 

"Was  it  possible  to  imagine  that  Gabriel  could  have  become 
so  poor  that  he  had  to  be  a  hod-carrier?"  George  said  at  last, 
scarcely  above  a  whisper. 

Clarence  being  as  much  moved,  took  some  time  to  reply. 

"The  thing  is  to  me  so  shockingly  preposterous  and  so  very 
heart-rending  that  it  does  not  seem  possible.  And  to  think  that 
if  I  had  not  gone  away,  I  might,  yes,  could,  have  prevented 
so  much  suffering!  Oh!  the  fool,  the  idiot  that  I  was  to  go," 


392  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE   DON. 

said  Clarence,  rising  and  pacing  the  room  in  great  agitation. 
"I  will  never  forgive  myself  nor  my  bankers  either,  and  shall 
take  my  money  to  some  other  bank.  They  should  never  have 
given  Don  Gabriel's  place  to  anybody  else,  for  it  was  at  my 
request,  and  to  oblige  me  that  they  employed  him,  and  they 
have  had  the  use  of  my  money  all  this  time.  Oh !  how  I  wish 
you  could  have  established  a  bank  here  with  the  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars  I  placed  to  Don  Mariano's  credit,  since  he 
would  not  accept  any  payment  for  the  cattle — my  cattle,  mind 
you — lost  in  the  snow.  But  perhaps  three  hundred  thousand 
dollars  would  have  been  rather  small  capital.' 

"  It  would  have  been  plenty  to  begin  with,  but  as  the  under 
standing  was  that  the  bank  was  to  be  in  San  Diego,  none  of 
us  felt  authorized  to  change  the  plan.  I  doubt  if  Don  Mari 
ano  would  have  drawn  any  of  the  three  hundred  thousand  dol 
lars.  You  know  he  mortgaged  his  rancho  rather  than  take 
any  of  your  money." 

"His  money,  you  ought  to  say,  for  I  had  already  bought  his 
cattle.  I  wish  he  had  not  taken  so  different  a  view  of  the 
matter.  Really,  the  money  was  his  from  the  moment  I  agreed 
to  make  the  purchase.  But  tell  me,  why  is  it  that  Mrs.  Mech 
lin  lost  her  homestead.  It  might  have  been  sold  to  help  the 
family." 

George  related  how  Peter  Roper  "jumped"  the  Mechlin 
house  in  true  vandalic  style,  breaking  open  the  doors  with  axes 
and  dragging  out  the  furniture  when  the  family  were  in  great 
grief,  and  how  this  outrage  as  well  as  others  were  indulgently 
passed  over  by  San  Diego's  august  tribunal  of  justice.  George, 
however,  did  not  know  all.  -He  did  not  know  that  Judge 
Lawlack  upon  one  occasion,  when  he  had  made  a  decision  in 
favor  of  Peter  Roper  and  against  the  Mechlins,  discovering 
upon  reflection  that  he  had  made  a  gross  mistake,  because  the 
authority  upon  which  he  based  his  decision,  obviously  favored 
the  Mechlins,  had  changed  his  decision.  He  actually  called  the 
attorneys  of  both  sides  into  court  and  then  amended  his  own 
decree  and  had  an  entirely  different  judgment  entered — a  judg- 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  393 

ment  based  upon  another  authority,  which,  with  his  construction 
of  the  law,  favored  Peter.  Then  again  when  the  Mechlins  tried 
to  file  another  complaint,  Peter  got  up,  and  in  his  coarse  loqua 
city,  vociferously  exhorted  his  Honor  to  send  all  the  plaintiffs 
and  their  attorney  to  jail  for  contempt  of  court  in  daring  to  re 
new  their  complaint  when  his  Honor  had  decided  that  they 
had  no  case;  that  the  innocent  purchasers,  Roper  and  Gasbang, 
were  the  legitimate  owners  of  the  Mechlin  place.  Whereupon, 
his  Honor  Lawlack  hurriedly  slid  off  the  judicial  bench,  under 
the  judicial  canopy,  in  high  tantrums,  and  shuffled  off  the  ju 
dicial  platform,  gruffly  mumbling:  "I  have  passed  upon  that 
before,"  and  slouchingly  made  his  exit. 

The  plaintiffs,  their  attorneys  and  their  witnesses,  were  left 
to  make  the  best  of  such  legal  proceedings  !  They  could  not 
even  take  an  appeal  to  the  Supreme  Court,  for  they  had  no 
record;  they  could  make  no  pleadings;  Judge  Lawlack  had 
carefully  and  effectively  done  all  he  could  to  ruin  their  case. 
Peter  winked  and  showed  his  yellow  teeth  and  purple  gums  in 
high  glee,  proud  to  have  exhibited  his  influence  with  the  Court, 
and,  as  usual,  went  to  celebrate  his  triumph  by  getting  intoxi 
cated  and  being  whipped,  so  that  he  had  a  black  eye  and 
skinned  nose  for  several  days. 

It  was  obvious  to  George  and  Clarence  that  the  position 
of  Gabriel  and  Lizzie  in  San  Francisco  must  have  been  pain 
ful  in  the  extreme,  and  yet  they  did  not  know  all.  Lizzie 
had  never  told  anybody  all  the  disagreeable,  humiliating,  re 
pugnant  experiences  she  had  had  to  pass  through.  She  had 
tried  to  help  her  husband  to  find  some  occupation  more  befit-  • 
ting  a  gentleman  than  that  of  a  day  laborer.  But  she  gave  up 
her  sad  endeavors,  seeing  that  she  was  only  humiliating  herself 
to  no  purpose.  She  met  at  times  gentlemen  and  kind-hearted 
men,  who  were  courteous  to  her,  but  oftener  she  found  occa 
sion  to  despise  mankind  for  their  unnecessary  rudeness  and 
most  unprovoked  boorishness.  More  painful  yet  was  the  evi 
dent  change  she  noticed  in  the  manners  of  her  lady  acquain 
tances. 


394  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

Years  before,  when  she  was  Lizzie  Mechlin,  she  had  moved 
in  what  was  called  San  Francisco's  best  society.  Her  family, 
being  of  the  very  highest  in  New  York,  were  courted  and 
caressed  in  exaggerated  degree  on  their  arrival  in  California. 
Afterwards,  for  the  benefit  of  Mr.  Mechlin's  health,  they  went 
to  reside  in  San  Diego.  When  Gabriel  came  to  his  position 
in  the  bank,  she  was  again  warmly  received  by  all  her  society 
friends.  But  this  cordiality  soon  vanished.  Her  family  went 
back  to  New  York,  and  she  and  Gabriel  returned  from  San 
Diego  to  San  Francisco  to  find  that  he  had  lost  his  place  at 
the  bank.  Then  he  endeavored  to  get  something  else  to  do. 
This  was  bad  enough,  but  when  she  tried  to  help  him,  then  her 
fashionable  friends  disappeared.  Nay,  they  avoided  her  as  if 
she  had  been  guilty  of  some  disgraceful  act.  The  fact  that 
Gabriel  was  a  native  Spaniard,  she  saw  plainly,  militated  against 
them.  If  he  had  been  rich,  his  nationality  could  have  been 
forgiven,  but  no  one  will  willingly  tolerate  a  poor  native  Cali- 
fornian.  To  see  all  this  was  at  first  painful  to  Lizzie,  but  after 
wards  it  began  to  be  amusing  and  laughable  to  see  people  show 
their  mean  little  souls  and  their  want  of  brains  in  their  eager 
chase  after  the  rich,  and  their  discourtesy  to  an  old  acquain 
tance  who  certainly  had  done  nothing  to  forfeit  respect.  About 
that  time  the  fever  for  stock  gambling  was  at  its  height.  The 
Big  Bonanza  was,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  making  and  un 
making  money  princes,  and  a  new  set  of  rich  people  had  rushed 
into  "  San  Francisco's  best  society."  The  leaders  of  the  ton 
then,  who  held  title  by  priority  of  possession,  not  forgetting 
•that  many  of  them  had  had  to  seive  a  rigorous  novitiate  of 
years  of  probation  before  they  had  been  admitted  to  the  high 
circles,  were  disposed  to  be  exclusive  and  keep  off  social 
"jumpers"  But  the  weight  of  gold  carried  the  day.  Down 
came  the  jealously  guarded  gates;  the  very  portals  succumbed 
and  crumbled  under  that  heavy  pressure.  Farewell,  exclusive- 
ness!  Henceforth,  money  shall  be  the  sole  requisite  upon 
which  to  base  social  claims.  High  culture,  talents,  good  ante 
cedents,  accomplishments,  all  were  now  the  veriest  trash. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND   THE    DON.  395 

Money,  and  nothing  but  money,  became  the  order  of  the  day. 
Many  of  the  newly  created  money-nobility  lived  but  a  day  in 
their  new,  their  sporadic,  evanescent  glory,  and  then,  with  a 
tumble  of  the  stocks,  went  down  head-foremost,  to  rise  no 
more.  But  some  of  the  luckiest  survived,  and  are  yet  shining 
stars.  Lizzie  saw  all  this  from  her  humble  seclusion.  Occa 
sionally,  at  the  houses  of  those  few  friends  who  had  remained 
unchanged  in  her  day  of  adversity,  she  met  some  of  the  newly 
arrived  in  society  as  well  as  a  few  of  the  fading  lights,  taking  a 
secondary  place.  All  the  new  and  the  old  lights  she  saw,  with 
equal  impartiality,  shifting  their  places  continually,  and  she 
began  to  think  that,  after  all,  this  transposing  of  positions  per 
haps  was  right,  being  the  unavoidable  outcome  in  a  new  coun 
try,  where  naturally  the  raw  material  is  so  abundant,  and  the 
chase  after  social  position  must  be  a  sort  of  "go-as-you-please" 
race  among  the  golden-legged. 

Therefore,  like  the  true  lady  that  she  was,  Lizzie  had  quiet 
ly  accepted  her  fate,  and  forgiven  fickle  society,  without  a 
murmur  of  complaint  or  a  pang  of  regret.  But  what  cer 
tainly  was  a  perennial  anguish,  a  crucifixion  of  spirit  to  her, 
was  to  see  in  Gabriel's  pale  face, — in  those  superb  eyes  of 
his, — all  his  mental  suffering;  then  courage  failed  her,  and 
on  her  bended  knees  she  would  implore  a  merciful  heaven  to 
pity  and  help  her  beloved,  her  beautiful  archangel. 

What  Gabriel  suffered  in  spirit  probably  no  one  will  ever 
know,  for  though  he  inherited  the  natural  nobility  of  his 
father,  he  was  not  like  him  communicative,  ready  to  offer  or 
receive  sympathy.  He  was  sensitive,  kind,  courteous  and  un 
selfish,  but  very  reticent. 

But  if  Gabriel  had  never  complained,  the  eloquence  of  facts 
had  said  all  that  was  to  be  said.  In  that  hod  full  of  bricks 
not  only  his  own  sad  experience  was  represented,  but  the  en 
tire  history  of  the  native  Californians  of  Spanish  descent  was 
epitomized.  Yes,  Gabriel  carrying  his  hod  full  of  bricks  up  a 
steep  ladder,  was  a  symbolical  representation  of  his  race.  The 
natives,  of  Spanish  origin,  having  lost  all  their  property,  must 
henceforth  be  hod-carriers. 


396  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

Unjust  laws  despoiled  them,  but  what  of  this?  Poor  they 
are,  but  who  is  to  care,  or  investigate  the  cause  of  their  pov 
erty?  The  thriving  American  says  that  the  native  Spaniards 
are  lazy  and  stupid  and  thriftless,  and  as  the  prosperous  know 
it  all,  and  are  almost  infallible,  the  fiat  has  gone  forth,  and  the 
Spaniards  of  California  are  not  only  despoiled  of  all  their 
earthly  possessions,  but  must  also  be  bereft  of  sympathy,  be 
cause  the  world  says  they  do  not  deserve  it. 

George  and  Clarence  entertained  a  different  opinion,  how 
ever,  and  in  suppressed,  earnest  tones  they  now  reviewed  the 
history  of  the  Alamares,  and  feelingly  deplored  the  cruel  legis 
lation  that  had  ruined  them. 

'Lizzie,  unable  to  sleep,  had  again  taken  her  place  by  the 
bedside,  and  sadly  watched  the  beautiful  face  which  seemed 
like  that  of  slumbering  Apollo.  Would  he  recover,  or  was  it 
possible  that  her  darling  would  die,  now  when  relief  had 
come?  Oh,  the  cruel  fate  that  made  him  descend  to  that 
humble  occupation. 

Lizzie  shuddered  to  think  of  all  the  suffering  he  would 
yet  have  to  undergo.  Oh,  it  was  so  inexpressibly  sad  to  think 
that  his  precious  life  was  risked  for  the  pitiful  wages  of  a  poor 
hod-carrier ! 


CHAPTER   XXXVII, 

REUNITED  AT  LAST. 

The  life  of  Gabriel  hung  by  a  very  frail  thread  for  several 
days,  and  Clarence  did  not  have  the  heart  to  leave  him.  He 
did  not  telegraph  to  Mercedes  their  arrival,  for  he  would  then 
have  been  obliged  to  give  a  reason  for  delaying.  He  wrote  her 
saying  that  Gabriel  had  accidentally  fallen  from  a  ladder,  and 
not  knowing  how  seriously  he  might  have  been  hurt,  George 
and  himself  had  decided  to  remain  with  Lizzie,  who  was  very 
much  frightened  and  distressed. 

Mercedes  answered,  thanking  him  in  the  warmest  terms  of 
gratitude  for  remaining  with  her  darling  brother,  adding  that 
much  as  she  wished  to  see  the  long-lost  Clarence,  she  pre 
ferred  to  endure  the  pains  of  waiting  rather  than  to  have  him 
leave  Gabriel  now. 

The  proudest  man  in  America  was  Clarence.  He  knew 
that  in  the  gratitude  of  her  heart  she  would  allow  him  to 
press  her  to  his,  and  he  longed  to  have  that  bliss.  But  faith 
fully  he  kept  his  watch  at  the  hospital,  and  Gabriel  lived  yet. 
No  doctor  dared  say  whether  he' would  die  or  survive  his  ter 
rible  fall,  or  his  health  remain  impaired.  No  one  dare  venture 
a  prophecy  for  so  dark  a  future. 

In  the  meantime  Clarence  got  his  house  ready  for  occupa 
tion,  and  as  soon  as  Gabriel  could  be  removed  without  dan 
ger,  they  took  up  their  residence  there.  In  the  silent  recesses 
of  her  heart  Lizzie  thanked  God  that  her  surroundings  were 
again  those  of  a  lady.  She  shuddered  to  remember  the  pov 
erty  she  endured  for  so  long  a  time,  and  she  would  have  felt 
really  happy  could  she  have  been  sure  that  her  beloved  Ga 
briel  would  live, 


39&  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"George,"  said  she  to  her  brother,  as  they  walked  towards 
the  library,  when  Clarence  had  relieved  their  watch,  and  was 
sitting  by  Gabriel's  bedside,  "I  have  an  idea  in  my  head  which 
I  think  we  might  put  into  practice,  if  you  will  help  me." 

"What  is  it,  dear  sister?"  asked  George,  tenderly,  observing 
how  thin  and  haggard  she  looked. 

"It  is  this,  that  if  you  and  I  write  to  Mercedes  that  she 
ought  to  marry  right  away,  so  that  Clarence  can  bring  her  to 
be  with  me,  to  help  me  take  care  of  Gabriel,  that  she  will 
do  so." 

"By,  Jove!  It  is  a  splendid  idea,  little  sister,  and  I'll  write 
to  Mercita  and  to  Dofia  Josefa  at  once." 

"It  is  little  enough,  George,  for  you  and  I  to  do,  when  Clar 
ence  has  been  so  devoted  to  my  darling,"  said  she,  her  eyes 
filling  with  tears  of  heart-felt  gratitude. 

"Of  course  it  is,  but  it  comes  so  natural  to  Clarence  to  act 
always  like  the  noble  fellow  he  is,  that  it  would  surprise  me  if 
he  had  acted  otherwise  than  nobly." 

"  But  we  ought  to  consult  him  about  our  project." 

"Certainly.  I'll  go  and  stay  with  Gabriel  and  send  him  to 
you  that  you  may  disclose  your  plan." 

"No,  let  me  go  to  Gabriel,  while  you  tell  him  the  plan," 
said  she,  hurrying  off  to  the  invalid,  whom  she  found  sleeping. 

She  whispered  to  Clarence  that  George  wished  to  speak  to 
him,  and  took  his  place  by  the  bedside. 

Clarence  could  find  no  words  to  express  to  George  his  joy 
and  gratitude.  He  flushed  and  paled  by  turns,  and  finally, 
stroking  his  mustache  with  trembling  fingers,  and  trying  to 
bite  it,  in  his  agitation,  sat  down  in  silence,  while  George  went 
into  the  details  of  the  matter. 

"But  will  she  consent?"  Clarence  exclaimed  at  last. 

"I  think  she  will,  for  you  know  how  all  of  them  love  Gabriel, 
Mercedes  more  than  all, — and  the  thought  that  he  is  suffering, 
and  Lizzie's  distress,  and  your  kindness  to  him, — all  that 
will  furnish  a  most  excellent  excuse  to  do  what  her  heart  has 
been  begging  for,"  said  George.  "  I  am  going  to  write  now 
about  it." 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  399 

"Oh,  I  shall  be  so  grateful!"  Clarence  exclaimed. 

"Send  Lizzie  to  me,  we  both  must  write,"  George  said. 

Clarence  went  back  to  the  sick  room,  and  said  to  Lizzie 
that  George  wanted  her. 

Kissing  her  hand  most  fervently,  he  exclaimed  in  a  tremu 
lous  whisper:  "You  are  my  angel!" 

George  and  Lizzie's  letters  were  very  pleading.  Clarence 
wrote  also,  imploring  Mercedes  to  forgive  the  stupidity  that 
took  him  away,  and  beseeched  her  to  yield  to  his  prayer,  and 
be  his  wife,  after  so  many  years  of  suffering. 

Mercedes  kissed  the  letter,  and  cried  over  it,  of  course,  as 
women  must,  but  referred  the  subject  to  her  mother.  Dona 
Josefa  must  also  cry  a  good  deal  before  she  said  anything,  for 
the  memory  of  her  husband  made  such  subjects  most  pain 
ful  to  her. 

But  Victoriano  stormed  from  his  bed.  He  would  have  no 
delay.  He  sent  for  Everett,  so  that  he  would  in  person 
carry  a  dispatch  to  town,  saying  to  Clarence,  by  telegraph,  to 
come  in  the  very  first  steamer.  Victoriano  would  have  no 
contradiction. 

"If  Mercedes  don't  marry  Clarence,  as  George  advises,  I 
want  to  be  taken  by  the  legs — my  mean,  cripple  legs,  my 
ridiculous  kangaroo  legs — and  dragged  out  of  this  bed,  and 
out  of  this  house.  I  don't  want  to  live  under  the  same 
roof  with  people  that  will  refuse  so  just  and  reasonable  a 
request" 

"But  who  has  refused  it,  Tano?  Wait,  won't  you?"  said 
Rosario,  seeing  that  Tano  had  hidden  his  head  under  the 
covers. 

Victoriano's  head  came  out  again,  and  said:  "Nobody 
saysjw." 

But  the  yes  was  said. 

Everett  took  a  dispatch  from  Dona  Josefa  to  George,  say 
ing  that  whenever  Clarence  came,  Mercedes  would  go  with 
with  him,  as  George  suggested. 

There   would   be  five  days  only   before  another   steamer 


400  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

would  arrive,  but  by  telegraphing  to  Clarence  on  that  day,  he 
would  have  time  to  take  the  steamer  next  morning,  or  go  on 
the  cars  to  Los  Angeles,  and  take  the  steamer  at  Wilmington. 
And  this  was  what  Clarence  telegraphed  he  would  do,  sug 
gesting  that  if  Mercita  would  be  ready,  they  could  take  the 
same  boat,  and  by  again  taking  the  cars  at  Los  Angeles,  be 
with  Gabriel  in  two  days. 

Was  it  a  dream?  To  see  Clarence  within  five  days,  and  be 
his  wife,  when  she  thought  she  might  never  see  him  on  this 
earth  again  !  Thus  ran  Mercedes'  reflections,  when  she  had 
gone  to  Jier  room  to  open  a  wardrobe  which  had  been  locked 
for  three  years.  That  wardrobe  held  the  trousseau  sent  by 
Mrs.  Lawrence  Mechlin  in  '74,  and  the  jewelry  which  Clar 
ence  had  given  her  in  New  York. 

Mercedes  thought  of  those  days,  and  the  image  of  her 
father  arose  before  her  vividly.  She  sat  by  the  window  to 
think  of  him  with  loving  tenderness  and  ever  living  regret. 

"But,  mon  Dieu,  mademoiselle,"  said  Madame  Halier,  com 
ing  in,  "why  don't  you  come?  Miss  Carlota  is  waiting  to  be 
gin  getting  your  things  ready." 

"I  beg  pardon;  I  had  forgotten,"  said  Mercedes,  rousing  her 
self  from  her  reverie.  Carlota,  Rosario  and  Alice  now  came 
in,  and  soon  the  contents  of  the  wardrobe  were  distributed  all 
over  the  room.  Madame  Halier  was  to  pack  in  trunks  all 
Mercedes'  things,  leaving  out  only  her  bridal  attire  and  traveling 
dress.  The  madame  did  her  work  with  pleasure,  as  she  was 
going  with  Mercedes,  and  had  been  wishing  to  visit  the  city  of 
San  Francisco  for  a  long  time. 

Everything  was  ready.  A  dispatch  came  from  George  say 
ing  that  Clarence  had  started ;  that  Gabriel  was  a  little  better, 
and  anxious  to  see  Mercedes.  This  made  Dona  Josefa  feel 
that  it  was  her  imperative  duty  to  send  Mercedes  to  her  brother 
at  once. 

Mrs.  Darrell  went  to  see  the  priest  about  going  to  the  rancho 
to  perform  the  marriage  ceremony  there.  The  good  man 
would  have  preferred  that  it  were  solemnized  in  the  church, 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  401 

but,  considering  that  Victoriano  could  not  leave  his  bed  and 
Dona  Josefa  was  still  in  very  deep  mourning,  he  consented. 

There  would  be  no  invited  guests  except  the  Holmans  and 
Darrells.  There  would  be  no  bridesmaids  either,  though  there 
were  plenty  of  young  girls  that  could  act  as  such. 

Everett  went  to  town  the  night  before  the  arrival  of  the 
steamer  to  bring  Clarence  as  soon  as  he  landed,  and  they  came 
from  town  so  quickly  and  noiselessly  that  no  one  knew  when 
they  arrived  at  the  rancho. 

The  ladies  were  all  in  Mercedes'  room  discussing  the  wed 
ding  outfit  and  other  matters,  when  it  occurred  to  her  to  go 
out  and  from  the  veranda  look  towards  the  road,  as  she  might 
perhaps  see  the  carriage  in  the  distance.  What  was  her  sur 
prise  when,  on  passing  by  the  parlor  door,  she  saw  Everett 
coming  through  the  gate,  and  there,  right  there,  where  Clarence 
had  stood  on  that  terrible  night  when  he  left  her,  there  he  stood 
again,  looking  at  her  with  those  same  speaking,  glowing,  loving 
eyes.  He  seemed  to  her  like  an  apparition,  and  she  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  surprise,  turning  very  pale  and  tottering  as 
if  about  to  fall.  In  an  instant  he  was  by  her  side  pressing  her 
to  his  heart  and  covering  her  face  with  kisses. 

Surely  this  was.no  ghost.  -His  warm  kisses  and  beating  heart 
spoke  of  the  lover  full  of  life  and  hope,  trembling  with  the  reali 
zation  of  years  of  longing  to  hold  her  thus  close,  very  close  in 
his  loving,  chaste  embrace. 

"Mercedes,  my  own,  my  sweet  wife,"  he  said,  and  his  voice 
had  so  much  the  same  tone  and  vibration  as  in  that  last  memo 
rable  night,  that  the  rush  of  sad  memories  and  painful  emotions 
made  her  for  a  moment  feel  confused,  bewildered,  almost  los 
ing  consciousness.  As  her  yielding  form  relaxed  in  his  arms  he 
carried  her  to  the  sofa  and  sat  there  holding  her,  scarcely  real 
izing  it  was  not  all  a  dream. 

Everett  had  gone  to  Victoriano's  room,  and  now  that  impa 
tient  invalid  was  screaming  for  Clarence  to  come.  His  loud 
calling  brought  Dona  Josefa  to  him,  and  then  all  the  family 
learned  that  Clarence  had  arrived. 


402  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

"Come  here,  you  truant,"  said  Victoriano  to  Clarence,  "come 
here,  you  ugly  man."  And  as  Clarence  stooped  to  embrace 
him,  he  clasped  him  to  his  heart,  making  him  lie  down  by  his 
side.  "There,"  said  he,  "I  have  given  you  a  good  hugging; 
now  go  and  kiss  the  girls." 

Which  Clarence  did  gladly,  but  his  mother  and  Dona  Josefa 
he  kissed  first.  He  then  went  to  the  parlor,  where  he  was 
kindly  greeted  by  no  less  than  fourteen  girls,  counting  thus : 
three  Alamares,  three  Holmans,  four  Darrells,  and  four  other 
Alamares,  cousins  of  Mercedes. 

Clarence  was  a  brave  fellow,  so  he  never  flinched  and  kissed 
them  all,  very  deliberately.  "Not  to  give  offence,"  he  said. 

There  was  one  duty  which  Clarence  shrank  from  performing, 
but  which  he  submitted  to  quietly,  and  that  was  meeting  his 
father. 

Darrell  came  to  the  Alamar  house  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life,  and  as  he  said  he  would  like  to  be  alone  when  he  met 
Clarence,  Rosario  conducted  him  to  the  office^  a  room  used  by 
her  father  when  he  saw  people  on  business  and  where  he  wrote 
his  letters,  but  where  others  of  the  family  scarcely  ever  entered. 

Clarence  was  shocked  to  see  how  aged  his  father  was.  When 
he  left,  the  auburn  hair  of  the  old  man  showed  no  white  lines 
at  all.  Now  he  was  so  gray  that  his  hair  was  almost  white. 
The  sight  of  that  white  hair  swept  from  Clarence's  heart  all 
trace  of  resentment,  and  his  love  for  his  father  seemed  to  rush 
back  to  him  with  pain,  but  with  great  force. 

"Oh,  father!"  exclaimed  Clarence,  seeing  the  open  arms 
before  him. 

"My  boy,  my  best  beloved,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  sob 
and  a  checking  of  breath,  holding  his  son  close  to  his  breast. 

"Father,  why  are  you  so  gray?"  Clarence  asked. 

"Because  I  did  you  a  great  wrong.  Because  I  murdered 
the  Don,  and  he  was  the  best  man  I  ever  saw."  When  Darrell 
said  this  he  completely  lost  his  self-control  and  wept  like  a  child. 
Clarence  wept  with  him,  for  he  felt  deeply  Don  Mariano's  death, 
but  thought  he  must  speak  kindly  to  his  father. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  403 

"You  did  not  murder  him;  don't  think  that,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  did.  My  wickedness  helped  the  wickedness  of 
others  to  kill  him.  And  our  wickedness  combined  brought  in 
finite  misery  upon  this  innocent  family.  But  a  merciful  God 
brought  you  back,  and  I  know  you  will  devote  your  life  to  re 
pair  as  much  as  it  is  possible  the  wrong  your  father  did.  I 
know  you  will  be  a  good  husband,  but  for  my  sake,  also,  I  beg 
you  to  be  a  devoted  son  to  the  widowed  lady  whom  I  have 
injured  so  frightfully.  A  wrong  legislation  authorized  us  squat 
ters,  sent  us,  to  the  land  of  these  innocent,  helpless  people  to 
rob  them.  A  wrong  legislation  killed  the  Texas  Pacific,  and 
such  legislation  is  the  main  cause  of  the  Don's  death.  But  I, 
too,  helped  the  wrong-doers." 

"  Don't  blame  yourself  so  much,"  Clarence  remonstrated 
gently,  trying  to  soothe  his  father.  "George  and  Lizzie  told 
me  that  all  the  family  believe  that  the  disappointment  at  the 
failure  of  the  Texas  Pacific  was  what  killed  Don  Mariano.  It 
preyed  upon  his  mind;  it  saddened,  worried  and  sickened  him 
until  it  utterly  undermined  his  health  and  broke  down  his  ner 
vous  system.  It  did  the  same  with  Mr.  Mechlin.  So,  you 
see,  those  who  defeated  the  Texas  Pacific  are  to  blame  for  the 
death  of  these  two  most  excellent  men,  but  not  yourself." 

"  Yes,  I  am.  No  man  can  injure  his  fellow-man,  and  then 
shift  the  blame  on  some  one  else's  shoulders,  because  others 
had  a  share  in  the  wrong  done.  Each  man  must  stand  and 
bear  his  proportion  of  blame.  I  could  and  should  have  pre 
vented  the  settlers  from  destroying  the  Don's  cattle.  If  I  had 
done  so,  he  would  not  have  been  obliged  to  take  them  all  at 
once.  He  could  have  sent  them  in  small  bands,  but  he  was 
afraid  of  the  murderous  rifles  of  my  friends.  So  the  poor, 
dumb  animals  perished  in  the  snow.  But  this  was  not  the 
worst;  the  saddest  was  yet  to  come.  Victoriano  lost  his  health, 
and  the  Don  lost  his  life.  The  good,  the  best  of  men,  was 
right  when,  in  his  dying  moments,  he  said :  '  The  sins  of  our 
legislators  brought  me  to  this?  That  was  a  truth  uttered  by  a 
just  and  noble  soul  as  it  passed  away.  Still,  I  must  feel  I  am 


404  THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

individually  to  blame  for  the  sorrow  brought  upon  this  family. 
I  know  that  if  the  railroad  had  been  built  the  Don  could  have 
recuperated  his  fortune,  but  yet  my  share  of  wrong-doing  stands 
there  all  the  same;  I  must  bear  it  myself.  '  If  I  had  not  driven 
you  away,  you  could  have  prevented  their  misfortunes.  I  was 
a  monster.  So  now  I  beg  and  entreat,  for  my  own  sake, 
and  as  a  slight  reparation  for  my  cruelty,  that  you  be  kind  to 
that  lady,  as  kind  as  if  you  were  her  own  child." 

"  I  will,  father;  I  vow  I  will." 

"  That  is  enough.  I  know  you'll  keep  your  word.  Now, 
my  boy,  heaven  bless  you,  and  your  father's  blessing  will  go 
with  you  always.  Now,  go,  and  when  the  ceremony  is  to  be 
performed,  send  Willie  to  call  me." 

As  everything  was  ready,  the  marriage  ceremony  took  place 
as  soon  as  the  priest  arrived.  Victoriano  was  brought  to  the 
parlor  in  an  arm-chair,  and  managed  to  stand  up,  held  by 
Everett  and  Webster.  Doha  Josefa  wept  all  the  time  and  so 
did  her  daughters,  but  everybody  understood  that  memories  of 
the  sad  past,  but  no  fears,  for  the  future,  caused  those  tears  to 
flow. 

The  parting  with  her  mother  and  sisters  was  most  painful  to 
Mercedes.  Clarence  feared  she  would  make  herself  ill  with 
weeping.  He  put  his  arms  around  her  waist  and  said: 

"  Don't  be  disheartened.  I  have  been  thinking  that  Dona 
Josefa  and  all  the  family  had  better  come  to  San  Francisco  to 
live.  If  she  does,  I  think  we  can  persuade  George  to  bring 
his  family  also  to  reside  there." 

Dona  Josefa  shook  her  head  doubtingly,  but  Mercedes 
asked : 

"Do  you  think  George  might  come?" 

"  I  do,  and  he  can  then  carry  out  there  our  plan  of  estab 
lishing  a  bank.  San  Diego  is  dead  now,  and  will  remain  so 
for  many  years,  but  San  Francisco  is  a  good  business  field.  So 
we  can  all  locate  ourselves  there,  and  Gabriel  and  Tano  go 
into  business  easily." 

"Business  without  capital?  See  where  my  poor  Gabriel  is 
now,"  Dona  Josefa  answered,  sadly. 


THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON.  405 

"  That  is  true,  but  if  you  will  sell  your  rancho,  they  will  have 
plenty  of  capital.  Even  at  two  dollars  per  acre,  your  rancho, 
being  forty-seven  thousand  acres — if  sold  at  that  low  figure — 
would  bring  you  ninety-four  thousand  dollars." 

"  But  who,  who  will  buy  mortgaged  land,  full  of  squatters, 
and  without  a  patent,  in  this  dead  place  ?  " 

"  I  will.  I  will  pay  you  more  than  ninety-four  thousand 
dollars — more  than  double  that  amount — besides  paying  you 
for  the  lost  cattle,  which  will  be  no'more  than  what  is  right." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  couldn't  agree  to  that,  but  as  for  selling  the  land, 
if  my  children  are  willing,  I  shall  be,  for  this  place  is  too  full 
of  sad  memories,  and  will  be  sadder  yet  if  I  cannot  have  my 
children  with  me.  When  Gabriel  and  Victoriano  get  well,  talk 
to  them  about  buying  the  rancho,  though  I  don't  think  you 
ought  to  pay  any  such  high  price.  You  are  too  generous  to  us." 

"  Indeed,  I  am  not.  Don't  forget  I  am  a  money-making 
Yankee.  I  think  four — or  even  three — dollars  per  acre  is  a 
high  price  for  land  in  this  county  now,  but  I  can  wait  years, 
and  then  I  shall  double  the  price  paid  now.  So,  you  see,  I 
am  not  a  bit  generous.  I  am  trying  to  make  money  out  of  you." 

"Talk  to  the  boys.  See  what  George  and  Gabriel  say," 
Dona  Josefa  said,  smiling  sadly  at  Clarence's  wily  argument 
and  earnest  manner. 

The  last  adieux  were  said,  but  the  parting  was  less  painful 
to  Mercedes,  with  the  new  hope  held  out  by  Clarence  of  a 
probability  of  being  reunited  soon  in  San  Francisco. 

When  Clarence  and  Mercedes  arrived  at  their  home  they 
found  that  George  and  Lizzie  had  propped  tip  Gabriel  with 
pillows,  and  he  was  sitting  up  to  receive  his  sister.  From  that 
day  he  began  to  improve  slowly  but  perceptibly. 

The  letters  from  home  spoke  of  Victoriano's  marked 
improvement,  but  still  his  malady  was  not  cured;  so  Clarence 
proposed  that  Dona  Josefa,  the  two  girls  and  Tano  should 
come  up  immediately.  She  could  then  make  up  her  mind 
whether  she  would  like  to  make  San  Francisco  her  home, 
and  the  change  of  climate  would  perhaps  do  Victoriano  good. 


406  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

The  idea  was  highly  approved  by  all,  and  that  same  evening- 
Mercedes  wrote  to  her  mother,  begging  her  to  come  and  see 
whether  she  liked  San  Francisco  for  a  home;  that  she  and 
Clarence  were  going  to  Europe  on  a  visit  in  the  fall,  and  she 
wanted  to  leave  her  mamma  and  sisters  and  brothers  all 
together;  that  George  and  Gabriel  liked  the  plan  of  selling  the 
rancho  to  Clarence  very  much,  and  wanted  to  talk  to  her  and 
Tano  about  it.  Thus  Doiia  Josefa  was  enticed  and  persuaded 
to  leave  the  home  of  her  joys  and  sorrows,  where  she  had  lived 
for  thirty  years.  Carlota  and  Rosario  were  willing  to  go,  and 
Tano  was  most  anxious  to  find  a  way  of  making  a  living,  for 
he  was  every  day  more  in  love  with  Alice,  but  could  not  think 
of  marrying  her  until  he  knew  how  he  was  going  to  support  a 
family. 

Dona  Josefa,  Carlota  and  Rosario,  therefore,  escorted  by 
Victoriano,  found  themselves,  on  a  bright  morning,  in  the 
Southern  Pacific  Railroad  cars,  on  their  way  from  Los  Angeles 
to  San  Francisco.  There  were  only  about  a  dozen  persons 
besides  themselves  on  the  entire  train. 

"  I  wonder  why  they  put  on  so  many  cars.  One  would 
carry  all  the  passengers,"  said  Rosario. 

"  Half  a  car  would  be  more  than  enough,"  Carlota  added. 

"They  must  lose  money  running  empty  cars,"  Tano  ob 
served.  "  I  am  glad  of  it.  They  were  so  anxious  to  leave  San 
Diego  out  in  the  cold,  I  hope  they  will  lose  money  with  this 
road." 

"Don't  wish  that,  it  is  unkind,  unchristian,  ungenerous,"  said 
Dona  Josefa,  with  a  sigh. 

"And  why  not  ?  Didn't  they  kill  our  road,  the  Texas  Pa 
cific,  to  build  this  road?  What  consideration  had  they  for  us? 
I  am  glad  that  many  years  will  pass  before  they  will  run  crowded 
cars  over  this  desert.  They  are  old  men,  they  won't  live  to 
see  this,  their  pet  road,  with  well-filled  cars,  running  over  it, 
and  I  bet  on  that,"  said  Tano,  exultingly. 

"Perhaps  they  will,"  said  Carlota. 

"  I  know  they'll  not,"  Tano  retorted,  emphatically. 


407  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

In  the  afternoon,  Clarence  and  Mercedes  met  them  in  Oak 
land,  and  together  they  crossed  the  bay. 

And  now  on  that  same  night  as  Dona  Josefa  looked  from 
her  bed-room  window  upon  the  lighted  city,  she  noticed  that  a 
large  mansion  near  by,  was  very  brightly  illuminated,  and 
Mercedes  told  her  that  one  of  the  railroad  kings,  who  had 
killed  the  Texas  Pacific,  lived  there,  and  was  giving  a  "  silver 
wedding"  party  to  the  elite  of  San  Francisco.  Dona  Josefa 
sighed,  and  sat  at  the  window  to  think. 

Truly,  San  Francisco  had  been  in  a  flutter  for  ten  days  past, 
and  the  "best  society"  had  stretched  its  neck  until  it  ached  to 
see  who  got  invitations  for  "  The  Great  Nob  Hill  Silver  Wed 
ding  Ball"  of  one  of  San  Francisco's  millionaires.  Mrs. 
Grundy  ascertained  who  were  to  be  the  best-dressed  ladies, 
what  their  pedigree  was,  and  how  their  money  had  been  made, 
and  then  Mrs.  Grundy  went  to  the  ball,  too. 

When  all  the  elegance  of  San  Francisco  had  arrived,  nobly 
sprinkled  with  a  Baron  or  two,  and  ornamented  with  a  Lord 
and  Lady  and  a  Marquise  or  Count,  the  great  millionaire  pro 
ceeded  to  astonish  his  guests  in  the  manner  he  had  conceived 
to  be  most  novel  and  startling. 

The  band  struck  up  a  wedding  march,  and  Mr.  Millionaire, 
with  his  wife  leaning  on  his  arm,  proceeded  to  the  last  of  an 
elegant  suite  of  rooms,  where,  under  a  canopy  of  fragrant  flow 
ers,  a  mock  marriage  ceremony  was  to  be  performed.  After  con 
ducting  the  blushing  bride  to  the  mock  altar,  and  the  ceremony 
being  over,  the  millionaire  thought  he  would  treat  his  guests  to 
what  he  imagined  to  be  a  real  hymenean  oration.  He  pre 
faced  his  homily  with  what  he  believed  to  be  witticisms  and 
quotations  of  his  own.  He  then  thought  it  was  time  to  wax 
eloquent  and  didactic,  above  prejudices,  truly  large-minded. 

"But  let  me  read  to  you  a  short,  telling  lesson  now,"  he  said, 
swelling  with  just  pride;  "I  speak  most  particularly  to  the 
young  men,  to  those  who  have  yet  their  fortunes  to  make.  Be 
not  discouraged  if  you  meet  with  hardships  and  trials.  Go 
ahead  and  persevere.  Look  at  all  these  luxurious  appurte- 


408  THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON. 

nances  surrounding  us !  I  might  well  say,  look  at  this  wealth  ! 
Look  at  this  splendor !  Well,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  sixteen 
years  ago  we  were  in  Sacramento,  so  poor,  that  we  had  to  put 
tin  pans  over  our  bed  to  catch  the  water  that  leaked  through 
our  roof,  and  keep  our  bed-clothes  dry.  I  had  not  money 
enough  to  get  a  better  roof  over  our  heads,"  and  the  millionaire 
looked  around  for  applause,  but  none  came,  because  the  guests 
possessed  the  good  taste,  or,  perhaps,  bad,  which  their  host 
lacked,  and  were  pained  and  mortified;  they  did  not  see  the 
good  of  waking  up  memories  of  unsavory  poverty.  The  for 
eign  nobility  was  not  so  proud,  perhaps,  as  they  had  been  at 
the  hour  of  receiving  an  invitation  to  all  this  so  very  newly 
created  splendor.  But  the  rich  man,  still  inflated  with  pride, 
hurriedly  wound  up  his  peroration  as  best  he  could,  feeling 
vague  misgivings  that  he  had  marred  the  eclat  of  his  magnifi 
cent  illumination  shining  over  his  costly  furniture,  by  trying  to 
rise  above  himself  to  make  a  high-minded,  witty  speech.  "Be 
plucky,  and  persevering,  and  go  ahead,  as  I  did,"  said  he  to 
close  his  oration,  bowing  to  his  foreign  guests. 

The  company  scattered  in  couples  or  in  groups  over  the 
luxuriously  furnished  and  richly  decorated  rooms,  and  Mrs. 
Grundy  hurried  about  everywhere  to  catch  the  comments  made 
by  the  grateful  guests  upon  "the  brilliant  speech  of  their  amia 
ble  host."  At  the  very  first  group  she  heard  a  young  man  say : 

"Yes,  I  would  be  plucky  and  persevering  if  I  had  an  asso 
ciate  in  Washington  with  plenty  of  money  to  bribe  people  so 
that  no  other  railroad  could  be  built  to  start  competition  in 
California." 

"I  could  be  plucky,  too,  if  the  Government  had  given  me 
millions  of  money  and  more  millions  of  acres  to  build  two  rail 
roads,  and  which  millions  I  never  intended  to  pay  back,"  said 
another. 

"And  for  which  millions  you  never  paid  taxes,"  added  an 
other. 

"Taxes?  Bah!  Let  the  poor  people  pay  taxes.  Why 
should  railroad  magnates  pay  taxes  when  they  have  money  to 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  409 

fight  the  law?  Absurd!"  said  a  fourth.  "Let  us  go  and  take 
ices;  the  brilliancy  of  our  host's  oration  makes  me  thirsty." 

And  while  all  this  went  on  in  the  brilliantly  lighted  mansion, 
Dona  Josefa  sat  at  her  window  in  the  dark,  thinking  of  what 
'•'•might  have  been"  if  those  railroad  men  had  not  blighted  San 
Diego's  prosperity.  Her  husband  would  have  been  alive,  and 
Mr.  Mechlin,  also,  and  her  sons  would  not  have  been  driven  to 
poverty  and  distress,  and  perhaps  lost  their  health  forever. 

"God  of  Justice,  is  this  right,  that  so  many  should  be  sacri 
ficed  because  a  few  men  want  more  millions?  Our  family  is 
one  of  the  many  who  have  suffered  so  much.  Oh !  so  much ! 
And  all  to  what  end?  For  what?  Ah!  the  same  answer 
again,  because  a  few  heartless  men  want  more  millions,"  said 
she,  with  her  face  bathed  in  tears. 

Dona  Josefa  evidently  did  not  believe  that  because  "misery 
there  must  always  be  in  the  world,  no  matter  who  causes  it" 
that  she  was  called  upon  to  stoically  submit  to  unmerited  inflic 
tion.  In  a  mild  and  dignified  way,  her  mind  rebelled.  She 
regarded  the  acts  of  the  men  who  caused  her  husband's  ruin 
and  death  with  genuine  abhorrence.  To  her,  rectitude  and 
equity  had  a  clear  meaning  impossible  to  pervert.  No  subtle 
sophistry  could  blur  in  her  mind  the  clear  line  dividing  right 
from  wrong.  She  knew  that  among  men  the  word  BUSINESS 
means  inhumanity  to  one  another;  it  means  justification  of  ra 
pacity  ;  it  means  the  freedom  of  man  to  crowd  and  crush  his 
fellow-man;  it  means  the  sanction  of  the  Shylockian  principle 
of  exacting  the  pound  of  flesh.  She  knew  all  this,  but  the 
illustration,  the  ocular  demonstration,  had  never  been  before  her 
until  now  in  that  gay  house,  in  that  brightly  illuminated  man 
sion,  and  she  sadly  contrasted  her  sorrow  with  their  gayety, 
and  continued  her  soliloquy:  "No  doubt  those  people  think 
they  have  a  right  to  rejoice  and  feast  with  the  money  extorted 
in  crushing  so  many  people — the  killing  of  my  darling.  Doubt 
less  they  say  that  they  earned  the  money  in  BUSINESS,  and 
that  allegation  is  all-sufficient;  that  one  word  justifies  in  the 
pursuit  of  riches  everything  mean,  dishonest,  rapacious,  unfair, 


4IO  THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

treacherous,  unjust,  and  fraudulent.  After  a  man  makes  his 
money  no  one  cares  how  he  made  it,  and  so  those  people  dance 
while  I  mourn  for  my  beloved." 

For  hours  Dona  Josefa  sat  at  that  window,  weeping  sadly, 
while  the  others  danced  gayly. 

Afterwards,  when  she  had  been  for  some  time  in  San  Fran 
cisco,  she  had  yet  stronger  demonstrations,  and  her  sense  of 
justice  and  her  ideas  of  moral  adjustment  of  men's  actions 
with  principle,  received  additional  shocks,  quite  as  painful  as 
seeing  the  millionaire's  palace  illuminated,  while  the  humble 
houses  he  had  desolated  must  remain  dark. 

Dona  Josefa  frankly  spoke  to  the  ladies  who  had  called  on 
her,  of  the  cause  of  her  husband's  death.  She  did  so  in  an 
swer  to  their  inquiries.  She,  on  two  or  three  occasions,  men 
tioned  how  painful  it  had  been  to  sit  by  the  window  looking  at 
that  house  of  rejoicing,  while  thinking  that  if  those  rich  men 
had  had  more  sense  of  justice  and  less  greed  of  money,  that 
her  husband  could  have  been  spared  to  her. 

"Don't  say  that,  my  dear  lady,  for  you  will  give  great  of 
fense,"  said  an  old  friend,  who  having  heard  that  Clarence 
was  worth  twelve  million  dollars,  had  called  on  her,  suddenly 
remembering  that  she  used  to  know  the  Alamares  years  ago. 

"  Why  should  I  give  offense?  It  is  the  truth,"  Dona  Josefa 
replied. 

"That  may  be,  but  you  cannot  speak  against  such  rich 
people;  San  Francisco  society  will  turn  against  you,"  was  the 
rejoinder. 

"Then  it  is  a  crime  to  speak  of  the  wrongs  we  have  suffered, 
but  it  is  not  a  crime  to  commit  those  wrongs." 

"I  don't  know.  I  am  not  a  moralist.  But  this  I  do  know, 
that  if  you  accuse  those  rich  men  of  having  done  wrong,  the  so 
ciety  people  will  give  you  the  cold  shoulder." 

"Oh,  very  well,  let  it  be  so.  Let  the  guilty  rejoice  and  go 
unpunished,  and  the  innocent  suffer  ruin  and  desolation.  I 
slander  no  one,  but  shall  speak  the  truth." 


CONCLUSION. 
OUT  WITH  THE  INVADER. 

"Let  infamy  be  that  man's  portion  who  uses  his  power  to 
corrupt,  to  ruin,  to  debase,"  says  Channing,  in  righteous  indig 
nation,  speaking  of  the  atrocities  perpetrated  by  Napoleon  the 
First  to  gratify  his  vanity  and  ambition.  Further  on,  with  in 
creasing  earnestness,  Channing  adds:  "In  anguish  of  spirit  we 
exclaim :  '  How  long  will  an  abject  world  kiss  the  foot  that 
tramples  it?  How  long  shall  crime  find  shelter  in  its  very  ag 
gravations  and  excess?'" 

If  Channing  lived  now,  his  'anguish  of  spirit'  would  be  far 
greater  to  find  in  his  own  country,  firmly  enthroned,  a  power 
that  corrupts^  ruins  and  debases  as  utterly  as  that  which  he  so 
eloquently  deplored,  and  his  own  fellow-citizens — the  free-born 
Americans — ready  and  willing  to  kiss  the  foot  that  tramples 
them  ! 

Not  infamy,  but  honor  and  wealth,  is  the  portion  of  the  men 
who  corrupt  and  ruin  and  debase  in  this  country.  Honor  and 
wealth  for  the  Napoleons  of  this  land,  whose  power  the  sons  of 
California  can  neither  check,  nor  thwart,  nor  escape,  nor  with 
stand.  And  in  California,  as  in  France,  "crime  finds  shelter 
in  its  very  aggravations  and  excess,"  for  after  ten  years  of 
fighting  in  Congress  against  legislation  that  would  have  given 
to  the  people  of  the  Southern  States  and  the  Pacific  Coast  a 
competing  railway ;  and  after  fighting  against  creating  a  sinking 
fund  to  re-imburse  moneys  due  to  the  Government,  and  fighting 
against  laws  to  regulate  freights  and  fares  on  a  fair  basis,  they 
(the  Napoleons)  refuse  to  pay  taxes  on  their  gigantic  property, 
thfcs  making  it  necessary  for  the  Governor  of  California  to  call 
an  extra  session  of  the  Legislature  to  devise  some  new  laws 


412  THE    SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON. 

which  will  compel  those  defiant  millionaires  to  pay  taxes,  and 
not  leave  upon  the  shoulders  of  poor  people  the  onerous  duty 
of  defraying  public  expenses. 

Is  not  this  "aggravation  of  excess?"  Excess  of  defiance? 
Excess  of  lawlessness  ?  How  insidiously  these  monopolists 
began  their  work  of  accumulation,  which  has  culminated  in  a 
power  that  not  only  eludes  the  law  of  the  land,  but  defies,  de 
rides  it !  They  were  poor  men.  They  came  before  the  Gov 
ernment  at  Washington,  and  before  the  people  of  California, 
as  suppliant  petitioners,  humbly  begging  for  aid  to  construct  a 
railroad.  The  aid  was  granted  most  liberally,  and  as  soon  as 
they  accumulated  sufficient  capital  to  feel  rich  they  began  their 
work  of  eluding  and  defying  the  law.  They  became  insolent, 
flinging  defiance,  as  if  daring  the  law  to  touch  them,  and  truly, 
the  law  thus  far  has  been  powerless  with  them.  At  Washing 
ton  they  won  their  first  victories  against  the  American  people ; 
and  now  California  has  the  shame  of  seeing  that  she  has  not 
the  power  to  enforce  her  laws  upon  the  men  she  made  rich. 
The  Legislature  convened  and  adjourned,  and  there  is  no  way 
yet  of  compelling  the  insolent  millionaires  to  pay  their  taxes  or 
regulate  their  rates  on  freights  and  fares ! 

It  seems  now  that  unless  the  people  of  California  take  the  law 
in  their  own  hands,  and  seize  the  property  of  those  men,  and 
confiscate  it,  to  re-imburse  the  money  due  the  people,  the  arro 
gant  corporation  will  never  pay.  They  are  so  accustomed  to 
appropriate  to  themselves  what  rightfully  belongs  to  others, 
and  have  so  long  stood  before  the  world  in  defiant  attitude, 
that  they  have  become  utterly  insensible  to  those  sentiments  of 
fairness  animating  law-abiding  men  of  probity  and  sense  of 
justice. 

These  monopolists  are  essentially  dangerous  citizens  in  the 
fullest  acceptance  of  the  word.  They  are  dangerous  citizens, 
not  only  in  being  guilty  of  violation  of  the  law,  in  subverting 
the  fundamental  principles  of  public  morality,  but  they  are 
dangerous  citizens,  because  they  lead  others  into  the  commis 
sion  of  the  same  crimes.  Their  example  is  deadly  to  honora- 


THE    SQUATTER   AND    THE    DON.  413 

ble  sentiments;  it  is  poison  to  Californians,  because  it  allures 
men  with  the  glamour  of  success;  it  incites  the  unwary  to  imi 
tate  the  conduct  of  men  who  have  become  immensely  rich  by 
such  culpable  means. 

Mr.  Huntington  in  his  letters  (made  public  in  the  Colton 
suit),  shows  the  truth  of  all  this;  shows  how  bribing  and  cor 
rupting  seemed  to  him  perfectly  correct.  He  speaks  of  "the 
men  that  can  be  convinced"  (meaning  the  men  that  will  take 
bribes),  as  naturally  as  if  no  one  need  blush  for  it.  And  with 
the  same  frankness  he  discloses  his  maneuvering  to  defeat  the 
Texas  Pacific  Railroad,  and  elude  the  payment  of  moneys  due 
the  Government.  It  is  surprising,  as  well  as  unpleasant,  to 
read  in  Mr.  Huntington's  letters  the  names  of  men  in  high  posi 
tions  whom  he  reckons  in  his  list  as  "men  who  can  be  con 
vinced"  and  he  speaks  of  them  in  a  cool  way  and  off-hand 
manner,  which  shows  how  little  respect  he  has  for  those  whom 
he  can  convince.  Perhaps  there  are  some  in  his  list  who  never 
did  take  a  bribe  from  him,  but  then  those  gentlemen  are  in 
the  position  of  "Old  Dog  Tray,"  who  suffered  for  being  in 
bad  company. 

"I  have  set  matters  to  work  in  the  South  that  I  think  will 
switch  most  of  the  South  from  Tom  Scott's  Texas  and  Pacific 
bill,"  etc.,  etc.,  Mr.  Huntington  wrote  in  April,  '75,  and  in  No 
vember  of  the  same  year  he  concluded  to  send  Dr.  Gwin  to 
work  on  the  credulity  of  the  Southerners,  to  switch  them  off. 

"I  think  the  doctor  can  do  us  some  good  if  he  can  work 
under  cover.  *  *  *  He  must  not  come  to  the  surface  as 
our  man.  *  *  *  Not  as  our  agent,  but  as  an  anti-subsidy 
Democrat  and  a  Southern  man,"  etc.  When  the  deceiver  re 
turned,  Mr.  Huntington  wrote:  "I  notice  what  you  say  about 
the  interest  that  Dr.  Gwin  should  have.  I  have  no  doubt  that 
we  shall  agree  about  what  his  interest  should  be,"  says  Mr. 
Huntington,  speaking  of  the  price  to  be  paid  the  ex-Senator 
for  his  work  of  helping  to  "switch  off  the  South!" 

In  another  letter  Mr.  Huntington  says:  "I  had  a  talk 
with  Bristow,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury.  He  will  be  likely  to 


414  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

help  us  fix  up  our  matters  with  the  Government  on  a  fair 
basis." 

Another  letter  says:  "  I  am  doing  all  I  can  to  have  the  Gov 
ernment  take  six  million  acres  of  land,  and  give  the  railroad 
company  credit  for  fifteen  million  dollars,  etc.  I  wish  you 
would  have  the  newspapers  take  the  ground  that  this  land 
ought  to  be  taken  by  the  Government  and  held  for  the 
people,  etc.  Something  that  the  demagogues  can  vote  and 
work  for,"  etc. 

Mr.  Huntington  also  says:  "I  think  there  should  be  a 
bridge  company  organized  (that  we  are  not  in)  to  build  over 
the  Colorado  River,  etc.  In  this  way  we  could  tax  the  through 
business  on  this  line  should  we  so  desire,"  etc. 

In  another  letter,  dated  March  7th,  1877,  he  says:  "I  stayed 
in  Washington  two  days  to  fix  up  a  Railroad  Committee  in 
the  Senate.  *  .  *  *  The  Committee  is  just  as  we  want  it, 
which  is  a  very  important  thing  for  us."  *  *  * 

He  again  says :  "  The  Committees  are  made  up  for  the  Forty- 
fifth  Congress.  I  think  the  Railroad  Committee  is  right,  but 
the  Committees  on  Territories  I  do  not  like.  A  different  one 
was  promised  me.  Sherrel  has  just  telegraphed  me  to  come 
to  Washington,"  etc. 

Mr.  Huntington  mentions  in  other  letters  the  fact  of  bills 
being  submitted  to  him  before  being  put  to  vote ;  and  also 
about  being  consulted  concerning  the  formation  of  Commit 
tees  and  other  Congressional  matters,  much  as  if  Congress 
really  wished  to  keep  on  the  good  side  of  Mr.  Huntington.  But 
it  looked  also  as  if  he  did  not  have  everything  his  own  way 
always,  for  at  times  he  loses  patience  and  calls  Congress  a 
"  set  of  the  worst  strikers,"  and  "  the  hungriest  set "  he 
ever  saw. 

In  his  letter  to  his  friend  Colton,  of  June  2oth,  '78,  he  ex 
claims  :  "  I  think  in  the  world's  history  never  before  was  such 
a  wild  set  of  demagogues  honored  by  the  name  of  Congress. 
We  have  been  hurt  some,  but  some  of  the  worst  bills  have 
been  defeated,  but  we  cannot  stand  many  such  Congresses,"  etc. 


THE   SQUATTER   AND    THE   DON.  415 

The  thing  that  annoyed  Mr.  Huntington  the  most  was  that 
he  could  not  persuade  Governor  Stanford  to  tell  the  bare-faced 
falsehood,  that  the  Southern  Pacific  did  not  belong  to  the 
owners  of  the  Central  Pacific. 

Again  and  again  Mr. 'Huntington  urged  the  necessity  of  this 
falsehood  being  told,  childishly  forgetting  the  fact  that  such  pre 
varications  would  have  been  useless,  as  all  Californians  knew 
the  truth. 

In  the  Congressional  Committees,  however,  he  himself  at 
tempted  to  pass  off  that  misstatement.  It  is  not  likely  that  he 
was  believed,  but  he  succeeded  in  killing  the  Texas  Pacific,  and 
in  "seeing  the  grass  grow  over  Tom  Scott."  The  subterfuge  no 
doubt  was  useful. 

Mr.  Huntington  having  buried  the  Texas  Pacific,  and  also 
Colonel  Scott,  as  well  as  other  worthy  people  (of  whom  no 
mention  has  been  made  in  this  book),  now  proceeded  to  demand 
that  the  Government  surrender  to  him  and  associates,  the  land 
subsidy  granted  by  Congress  to  the  Texas  Pacific. 

This,  surely,  is  an  "aggravation  of  excess!" 

The  House  Committee  on  Public  Lands  in  their  report  on 
the  "forfeiture  of  the  Texas  Pacific  land  grant"  reviewed  Mr. 
Huntingdon's  acts  with  merited  severity.  Amongst  many  other 
truths  the  report  says:  "The  Southern  Pacific  claims  to  'stand 
in  the  shoes'  of  the  Texas  Pacific.  Ycur  committee  agree  that 
'standing  in  the  shoes'  would  do  if  the  Southern  Pacific  filled 
tJie  shoes."  But  it  does  not.  It  never  had  authority  or  recog 
nition  by  Congress  east  of  Yuma.  For  its  own  purpose,  by 
methods  which  honest  men  have  denounced,  greedy  to  embrace 
all  land  within  its  net-work  of  rails,  to  secure  monopoly  of  trans 
portation,  surmounting  opposition  and  beating  down  all  obsta 
cles  in  its  way,  and  in  doing  so,  crushing  the  agent  Congress 
had  selected  as  instrument  to  build  a  road  there,  doing  notliing, 
absolutely  nothing,  by  governmental  autJiority  or  assent  even,  and 
having  succeeded  in  defeating  a  necessary  work  and  rendering 
absolutely  abortive  the  attempt  to  have  one  competing  transporta 
tion  route  to  the  Pacific  built,  it  coolly  asks  to  bestow  upon  it  fifteen 


416  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

millions  of  acres  of  lands;  to  give  it  the  ownership  of  an  area 
sufficient  for  perhaps  one  hundred  thousand  homes ;  as  a  reward 
for  that  result" 

And  the  committee  (with  one  dissenting  voice  only)  reported 
their  opinion  that  the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad  Company  had 
neither  legal  nor  equitable  claim  to  the  lands  of  the  Texas  Pa 
cific  which  Mr.  Huntington  wished  to  appropriate. 

But  is  it  not  a  painful  admission  that  these  few  men  should 
have  thwarted  and  defeated  the  purpose  and  intent  of  the  Gov 
ernment  of  the  United  States  of  having  a  competing  railway  in 
the  Texas  Pacific?  Not  only  Colonel  Scott,  and  Hon.  John 
C.  Brown,  and  Mr.  Frank  T.  Bond,  the  President  and  Vice 
President  of  this  road,  but  also  Senator  Lamar,  Mr.  J.  W. 
Throckmorton,  Mr.  House,  Mr.  Chandler,  of  Mississippi,  and 
many,  many  other  able  speakers,  honorable,  upright  men,  all 
endeavored  faithfully  to  aid  the  construction  of  the  Texas 
Pacific.  All  failed.  The  falsehoods  disseminated  by  ex-Sena 
tor  Gwin,  which  Senator  Gordon  and  others  believed,  and  thus 
in  good  faith  reproduced,  had  more  effect  when  backed  by  the 
monopoly's  money. 

But  Tom  Scott  is  laid  low,  and  so  is  the  Texas  Pacific ;  now 
the  fight  for  greedy  accumulation  is  transferred  to  California. 
The  monopoly  is  confident  of  getting  the  land  subsidy  of  the 
Texas  Pacific — after  killing  it;  of  getting  every  scrap  that 
might  be  clutched  under  pretext  of  having  belonged  to  the  de 
capitated  road.  Thus  the  lands  that  the  City  of  San  Diego 
donated  to  Tom  Scott  on  condition  that  the  Texas  Pacific 
should  be  built,  even  these,  the  monopoly  has  by  some  means 
seized  upon.  No  Texas  Pacific  was  built,  but  nevertheless, 
though  clearly  specified  stipulations  be  violated,  San  Diego's 
lands  must  go  into  the  voracious  jaws  of  the  monster.  Poor 
San  Diego !  After  being  ruined  by  the  greed  of  the  heartless 
monopolists,  she  is  made  to  contribute  her  widow's  mite  to  swell 
the  volume  of  their  riches  !  This  is  cruel  irony  indeed. 

And  now  those  pampered  millionaires  have  carried  their  de 
fiance  of  the  law  to  the  point  of  forcing  the  Governor  of  Cali- 


THE   SQUATTEK    AND    THE    DON.  417 

fornia  to  call  an  extra  session  of  the  Legislature  to  compel  them 
to  obey  the  law.  Speaking  of  these  matters  a  very  able  orator 
said  in  one  of  his  speeches  in  the  extra  session : 

"It  is  stated  in  the  proclamation  of  the  Governor  to  convene 
this  Legislature,  that  for  three  or  four  years  past  the  principal 
railroads  in  this  State  have  set  at  defiance  the  laws  of  the 
people;  that  they  have  refused  to  pay  their  taxes;  that  they 
had  set  up  within  our  borders  an  imperium  in  imperw;  that 
they  had  avowed  and  declared  themselves  free  from  the 
laws  of  the  State  under  which  they  hold  their  organization; 
that  there  were  no  laws  in  this  State  to  which  they  were  bound 
to  submit  and  pay  such  taxes  as  would  have  fallen  to  them  had 
they  been  subject  to  the  laws  of  the  State,  etc.,  etc.  It  has 
not  occurred  before  in  the  United  States  that  a  great  Common 
wealth  has  been  defied  successfully  by  its  own  creatures." 

Other  speakers  followed,  and  we  of  California  have  now,  at 
least,  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  faithful  hearts  and  bright 
intellects  have  been  aroused  and  are  watching  the  strides  of 
the  monster  power. 

The  Spanish  population  of  the  State  are  proud  of  their  coun 
tryman,  Reginaldo  del  Valle,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to  take  a 
bold  stand  against  the  monopoly.  This  young  orator  with 
great  ability  and  indomitable  energy,  has  never  flagged  in  his 
eloquent  denunciations  of  the  power  which  has  so  trampled 
the  laws  of  California  and  the  rights  of  her  children. 

Mr.  Breckinridge,  another  brilliant  orator,  speaking  of  the 
pertinacious  defiance  of  the  law  exhibited  by  the  monopolists, 
said :  "  Nothing  but  a  shock,  a  violent  shock,  a  rude  lesson — 
such  as  the  old  French  noblesse  got  when  they  saw  their  cha 
teaux  fired  and  their  sons  guillotined — will  awaken  them  from 
their  dream  of  security." 

The  champions  of  right  fought  well,  fought  nobly,  in  the 
legislature,  but  alas !  the  gold  of  the  monopoly  was  too  power 
ful,  and  the  extra  session,  called  to  devise  means  of  compelling 
the  railroad  corporation  to  obey  the  law,  adjourned — adjourned, 
having  failed  in  accomplishing  the  object  for  which  it  was  called. 


41 8  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

The  legislators  themselves  acknowledged  that  corruption  was 
too  strong  to  be  withstood.  Mr.  Nicol  said : 

"  There  was  once  a  belief  that  the  legislature  of  California 
was  a  high,  honorable  body,  into  which  it  should  be  the  pride 
and  glory  of  fathers  to  see  their  sons  gain  admission.  I  have 
been  here  two  sessions,  and  instead  of  being  a  place  to  which 
an  honorable  ambition  should  prompt  a  young  man  to  aspire,  I 
believe  it  to  be  the  worst  place  on  the  continent.  We  are  sur 
rounded  by  a  lobby  wliich  degrades  every  man  here  by  constant 
temptation  and  offers  of  corruption;  the  monopoly  has  made  it  no 
place  where  a  careful  father  will  send  his  son" 

If  these  powerful  monopolists  were  to  speak  candidly,  would 
they  say  that  the  result  of  their  struggle  for  money  in  the  last 
fourteen  years  of  their  lives  has  compensated  them  for  that 
shoulder-to-shoulder  fight  with  opponents  who  were  in  the  right, 
and  must  be  vanquished  by  foul  means  ?  "  I  shall  see  the  grass 
grow  over  Tom  Scott,"  prophetically  wrote  Mr.  Huntington 
several  times.  He  had  his  wish.  -  The  grass  grows  over  Tom 
Scott.  Mr.  Huntington  can  claim  the  glory  of  having  laid  low 
his  powerful  opponent,  for  it  is  well  known  that  the  ten  years' 
struggle  for  the  Texas  Pacific  undermined  Colonel  Scott's  health 
beyond  recovery.  Broken  down  in  health,  he  left  Mr.  Hun 
tington  master  of  the  field.  But  is  the  victory  worth  the  cost  ? 
The  fight  was  certainly  not  glorious  for  the  victor.  Is  it  to  be 
profitable?  Many  lives  have  been  wrecked,  many  people  impov 
erished,  much  injustice  done,  and  all  for  the  sake  of  having  the 
Southern  Pacific  Railroad  without  a  rival,  without  competition. 
This  road  runs  mostly  through  a  desert;  how  is  it  to  be  made 
profitable  ?  In  their  eager  pursuit  of  riches,  the  projectors  of 
it  miscalculated  the  inevitable,  and  did  not  foresee  that  other 
capital  could,  in  a  few  years,  build  competing  lines  through 
more  favorable  routes;  did  not  foresee  that  it  would  have  been 
a  better  policy  to  adhere  honestly  to  the  terms  of  their  first 
charter;  did  not  foresee  that  it  would  have  been  better  not  to 
sacrifice  San  Diego.  No,  they  deemed  it  a  wiser  plan  to  kill  Tom 
Scott,  to  kill  San  Diego,  and  then  take  the  money  earned  in 


THE   SQUATTER   AND   THE   DON.  419 

this  manner  to  go  and  build  railroads  in  Guatemala  and  in 
British  America.  To  men  who  do  not  think  that  in  business 
the  rights  of  others  should  be  considered,  this  policy  of  crush 
ing  or  desolating  everything  in  the  path  of  triumphant  accumu 
lators  no  doubt  is  justifiable.  But  why  should  the  rich  enjoy 
rights  that  are  "deadly  to  other  men?"  It  is  alleged  in  defense 
of  the  California  railroad  monopolists  that  as  they  do  not  think 
it  would  be  lucrative  to  run  a  railroad  to  San  Diego,  they  do 
not  build  any.  If  this  were  a  true  allegation,  why  did  they  fear 
the  Texas  Pacific  as  a  competing  road  ?  Why  did  they  spend 
so  much  money  and  ten  years  of  their  lives  to  kill  that  railroad? 
Surely,  if  they  knew  so  well  that  a  road  to  San  Diego  would 
not  pay,  why  were  they  so  anxious  to  prevent  its  construction  ? 
Was  it  out  of  a  purely  disinterested  and  philanthropic  solicitude 
for  their  rivals?  Did  Mr.  Huntington  wish  "to  see  grass  grow 
over  Tom  Scott"  because  he  kindly  desired  to  prevent  his  finan 
cial  ruin  ? 

Obviously,  to  maintain  that  the  monopoly  did  not  build  a 
road  to  San  Diego  because  it  would  not  pay,  and  that  they 
would  not  allow  Tom  Scott  to  build  it  either,  for  the  same 
reason,  is  not  logical.  If  to  construct  and  run  such  road  would 
have  been  ruinous,  that  was  the  very  best  of  reasons  for  allow 
ing  it  to  be  built.  This  would  have  been  as  effective  a  way  of 
getting  rid  of  Colonel  Scott  as  by  seeing  grass  grow  over  his 

grave. 

But  no,  it  is  not  true  that  the  San  Diego  road  would  not 
have  been  profitable;  the  truth  is,  that  because  it  would  have 
been  profitable,  it  was  dreaded  as  a  rival  of  the  Southern  Pa 
cific.  But  the  monopoly  had  no  money  to  build  two  roads  at 
once,  so  tliey  (characteristically)  thought  best  to  kill  it.  As 
they  could  not  have  it,  no  one  else  should.  And  for  this  rea 
son,  and  because  one  of  the  railroad  kings  conceived  a  great 
animosity  against  the  people  of  San  Diego  and  became  their 
bitter,  revengeful  enemy,  they  were  not  allowed  to  have  a  rail 
road.  This  last  fact  seems  incredibly  absurd,  but  if  we  remem 
ber  how  a  Persian  tyrant  razed  a  city  to  the  ground  because  he 


420  THE    SQUATTER    AND    THE    DON. 

•ate  there  something  that  gave  him  an  indigestion,  we  ought  not 
be  surprised  if  a  modern  king — one  of  California's  tyrants — 
should  punish  a  little  city  because  it  did  not  turn  out  en  masse 
to  do  him  humble  obeisance.  Doubtless,  to  indulge  in  such 
petty  malice  was  not  lofty ;  it  was  a  sort  of  mental  indigestion 
not  to  be  proud  of;  it  was  a  weakness,  but  it  was  also  a  wick 
edness,  and  worse  yet,  it  was  a  blunder. 

Time  alone,  however,  will  prove  this.  In  the  meanwhile, 
the  money  earned  in  California  (as  Californians  only  know 
how)  is  taken  to  build  roads  in  Guatemala.  Towns  are  crushed 
and  sacrificed  in  California  to  carry  prosperity  to  other  coun 
tries.  And  California  groans  under  'her  heavy  load,  but  sub 
mits,  seeing  her  merchants  and  farmers  ground  down  with 
"special  contracts"  and  discriminating  charges,  and  the  refrac 
tory  punished  with  pitiless  severity.  Thus,  merchants  and 
farmers  are  hushed  and  made  docile  under  the  lash,  for  what  is 
the  use  of  complaining?  When  the  Governor  of  this  State 
sought  in  vain  to  curb  the  power  of  the  monster  and  compel  it 
to  pay  taxes  by  calling  an  extra  session  of  the  Legislature,  and 
nothing  wss  done,  what  more  can  be  said? 

Ask  the  settlers  of  the  Mussel  Slough  what  is  their  expe 
rience  of  the  pitiless  rigor  of  the  monopoly  towards  those  who 
confidently  trusted  in  the  good  faith  of  the  great  power.  These 
poor  farmers  were  told  by  the  railroad  monopoly  to  locate 
homesteads  and  plant  orchards  and  vineyards  and  construct 
irrigating  canals;  that  they  would  not  have  to  pay  for  their 
land  any  higher  price  than  before  it  was  improved.  With  this 
understanding  the  farmers  went  to  work,  and  with  great  sacri 
fices  and  arduous  labor  made  their  irrigating  canals  and  other 
improvements.  Then  when  this  sandy  swamp  had  been  con 
verted  into  a  garden,  and  valueless  lands  made  very  valuable, 
the  monopoly  came  down  on  the  confiding  people  and  de 
manded  the  price  of  the  land  after  it  had  been  improved.  The 
farmers  remonstrated  and  asked  that  the  original  agreement 
should  be  respected;  but  all  in  vain.  The  arm  of  the  law  was 
called  to  eject  them.  They  resisted,  and  bloodshed  was  the 


THE    SQUATTER   AND  THE    DON.  421 

consequence.  Some  of  them  were  killed,  but  all  had  to  sub 
mit,  there  was  no  redress. 

And  what  price  did  the  monopoly  pay  for  these  Lands  ?  Not 
one  penny,  dear  reader.  These  lands  are  a  little  bit  of  a  small 
portion  out  of  many  millions  of  acres  given  as  a  subsidy,  a 
gift,  to  build  the  Southern  Pacific  Railroad,  which  road,  the 
charter  said,  was  to  pass  through  San  Diego  and  terminate  at 
Fort  Yuma. 

The  line  of  this  road  was  changed  without  authority.  [Mr. 
Huntington  talks  in  his  letters  about  convincing  people  to 
make  this  change.]  Thus  the  Mussel  Slough  farmers  got 
taken  in,  into  Mr.  Huntington's  lines — as  was  stated  by  the 
public  press. 

But  these,  as  well  as  the  blight,  spread  over  Southern  Califor 
nia,  and  over  the  entire  Southern  States,  are  historical  facts. 
All  of  which,  strung  together,  would  make  a  brilliant  and  most 
appropriate  chaplet  to  encircle  the  lofty  brow  of  the  great  and 
powerful  monopoly.  Our  representatives  in  Congress,  and  in 
the  State  Legislature,  knowing  full  well  the  will  of  the  people, 
ought  to  legislate  accordingly.  If  they  do  not,  then  we  shall — 
as  Channing  said  "kiss  the  foot  that  tramples  us!"  and  "in  an 
guish  of  spirit"  must  wait  and  pray  for  a  Redeemer  who  will 
emancipate  the  white  slaves  of  California. 


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